• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 12
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Where the Horizon can be Seen Miles Away Across a Vast Open Space

We discussed the inevitability of growing old when we were young.
"I don't want this busy city shit." She passed the cigarette, a glowing dot, floating in the night air. "I want my toes in the sand and the sound of waves in my ears."

We lay there all night, dreaming of this place where taxis were a fiction. Dreaming of how it would smell, sweet from the flowers of red, blue, purple, white. Dreaming of a sky full of stars, thrown across the sky like you gave a six-year-old a bag of glitter. Dreaming of a place where a beach is made merely from sand, rocks, sticks, shells. Dreaming of a place where the water is clear, showing you the thousand-and-one things that will kill you.

The sun broke the skyline of skyscrapers, the rugged jaws, closing in on the almost-blue sky. She pushed herself to standing, threw the orange filter at her feet. "You comin'?"