The cigarette tasted sharp against the night air, smoke drifting past the open window. I leaned there for a while, watching the world wake up—cars sliding down the street, a kid pedaling too fast on a bike, the corner store flicking its neon sign to life. Same view as always, but I never minded looking. It gave me something to do before work.
I tapped the ash into the tray, stubbed the cigarette out halfway, and turned back into the room. Clothes were waiting on the chair. Black jeans, a clean shirt, my jacket. I pulled them on piece by piece, the motions familiar, practiced. Living alone had that effect—everything stayed where I left it, no surprises, no mess but mine.
The mirror by the door caught me for a second. My eyes looked like I hadn't slept enough, but that was nothing new. I pressed my hair back with a wet hand, good enough, and grabbed my keys.
Gas station shift in twenty minutes. Another night of swiping cards, restocking shelves, and listening to people's late-hour stories. Not exciting, but it paid rent.
I slipped my lighter into my pocket, shut the door behind me, and headed out.
The hallway was dim, the light overhead buzzing like it wanted to die. I locked up behind me, slipped the keys into my pocket, and started toward the stairs.
That's when I saw her.
Jasmine, my next-door neighbor, was half leaning out of her doorway, cigarette in one hand, the other resting lazily on her hip. A guy in a hoodie slipped past me, his head ducked, trying not to make eye contact as he zipped up his fly. Jasmine gave him a lazy wave with her cigarette, smoke curling around her smirk. Another one of her customers. This horny woman, I swear…
"Come back when your wallet forgives you, baby," she purred after him.
The guy muttered something and shuffled off.
Then her eyes flicked to me.
She was dressed like always: lingerie instead of clothes. Black lace that clung to her chest so tight it looked ready to give out, her tits pushing against the thin fabric, heavy and distracting. The robe she wore over it was silk, barely tied, sliding off one shoulder to show smooth skin. Her thighs were bare, the curve of her ass just visible when she shifted her weight. She didn't look like she was getting ready for bed—she looked like she was advertising a goddamn fantasy.
"Well, well. Morning, Evan." Smoke drifted past her smile as she looked me over. "Heading to your glamorous little kingdom behind the counter?"
"Yeah," I said, adjusting my jacket. "Same as always."
She took a drag, lips painted too red for daylight, then exhaled slowly. "You know, you walk past me every damn day, and you never stop for a taste. What's a girl gotta do? Offer a neighbor discount?"
I smirked, shaking my head. "Pretty sure I can't afford even the discounted rate."
"Oh, sweetheart, you'd be surprised what I can do for the right neighbor." She leaned in, cleavage obvious, her voice dropping low and dirty. "You look like the kind who bottles it up. You need someone to take care of that before it poisons you."
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, not slowing down. "You tell me that every time."
"Because it's true every time." She flicked her ash, eyeing me with a sly grin. "One day you'll give in. And when you do, you'll wonder why you didn't fuck me sooner."
I chuckled under my breath, stepping off the curb. "I'll keep it in mind."
"You'd better," she called after me, voice playful. "I might even knock ten percent off for you. Special offer, just for the boy next door."
I waved her off without turning. Same banter, different day.
The street outside was already alive. Cars pressed bumper to bumper, horns blaring as if that would change anything. Neon signs buzzed even in the daylight, flickering with ads for clubs, pawn shops, massage parlors, and a dozen fast-food joints packed side by side. A woman in heels brushed past me, her perfume cutting through the stink of exhaust. Somewhere, a vendor shouted about hot buns fresh from the steamer, and the crowd rolled on without listening.
I pulled my jacket tighter and slipped into the flow, letting the noise wash over me. People everywhere—faces lit by phone screens, eyes empty, moving fast like the city might swallow them whole if they stopped too long.
The bus stop was just ahead, glass walls smeared with graffiti and old gum clinging to the bench. A couple of kids in school uniforms were kicking at each other's shoes, an old man muttered to himself, and two girls in tight skirts giggled over a screen. I leaned against the pole, pulled out my phone, and scrolled through nothing. Messages I didn't feel like answering, feeds full of people pretending their lives were more interesting than they were.
Minutes dragged until the bus finally pulled up with a squeal of brakes. Doors hissed open, and the crowd surged forward. I slid in with them, pressing past shoulders and backpacks. The air inside was warm, heavy with too many bodies and too little space.
I managed to claim a seat halfway down, wedged between a guy in a suit dozing against the window and a woman juggling grocery bags. Not comfortable, but better than standing.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket, resting my head against the seatback as the bus lurched forward, carrying me deeper into the city's glow.
The bus rattled down the avenue, every stop pulling more people in until the aisle was packed shoulder to shoulder. I leaned slightly to the side, phone forgotten in my pocket, eyes drifting over the crowd.
That's when I saw him.
A man in his forties, pressed too close behind a girl who couldn't have been older than twenty. She had long brown hair that brushed her shoulders, a soft face made smaller by the way she tried to keep her eyes down. Her skirt barely reached her knees, and her hands clutched the strap of her bag like it was a shield. Every time the bus jolted, the man's hand shifted, brushing against her hip, her ass, too deliberate to be an accident.
Her jaw tightened. She shifted away an inch, but he followed, closing the gap again, pretending it was the sway of the bus.
I sighed through my nose, pushed myself up from my seat. "Here," I said, nodding toward the empty spot. "Take it."
Her eyes flicked up, wide. "Oh, no, that's okay. I don't—"
"I insist," I cut her off, stepping aside.
She hesitated, then lowered herself into the seat like her legs might give out. Her voice was soft, almost breaking. "...Thank you."
I gave a small nod and turned away, planting myself in the aisle, one hand gripping the overhead bar. The man was still there, staring at nothing, pretending like he hadn't been caught.
I looked straight at him until his eyes finally met mine. Didn't say a word. Just let the silence stretch, the weight of it hanging between us.
Then I exhaled, long and slow, and looked away.
Coward.
The bus shuddered, carrying us all forward, the city's lights flashing across the windows as if it didn't notice at all.
I shifted my weight as the bus rumbled on, trying not to think about the man anymore. My eyes wandered down the aisle, past the bodies crammed shoulder to shoulder.
Then I saw someone…
At the far end of the bus, tucked into the corner seat by the window, sat a girl I knew I'd never seen before. Long blonde hair spilled like silk over her shoulders, catching the glow of the passing neon outside. Her eyes—blue, piercing, almost unreal, were fixed on something beyond the glass, and for a second, the whole noise of the bus seemed to dull around her. Her skin was pale, soft in a way that didn't look like it belonged to this city, this world.
I blinked.
And she was gone.
The seat was empty, the glass behind it reflecting nothing but the blur of headlights and rain-streaked signs.
I frowned, rubbing at my eyes, then let out a breath and leaned back against the pole. "Yeah… I really gotta stop drinking beer for breakfast."
The bus jolted again, carrying me forward into the night, and I didn't look back.
—