“tganks again for covering cash 4 lunch
ill get lunch @ urban junction
irs at 8th & polaris”
The furniture mover, on a rainy day off, took the bus into Eville to meet one of the people she briefly worked with on a larger move. Partially, the trip was to get out of the house, maybe meet up with some new people, but mainly it was to see if this hip establishment could rekindle her guitar playing interests.
“OK, I’m out front,” she texted back.
She debated between waiting in the lobby, where she most certainly would have awkward conversations with patrons and employees about with whom she was meeting up with and such, or, waiting out in the near-freezing rain where everything felt just a little too cold.
She was only outside for chilly ten minutes.
“Hey, there, stranger! Jane!” The same gigglish voice of the younger girl, Charinah, that had no cash on her – only her family’s credit card – when they went out to eat at a low-end diner rang of confidence and charm. She looked around to see a bright pink raincoat and then the one with an exclusive membership invitation…
…”So this is the play area, Nostalgia,”
There were ping pong tables, a window overlooking a basketball court, an indoor pool, and a variety of other activities and amenities. “Cool.” They walked past a giant hammock, bigger than her studio apartment perhaps, and an expensive assortment of high-quality leather chairs, cushions, and “contemplation stations.”
“And this is the library…”
Set into concrete columns were shelves that held a handful of books on a variety of esoteric, expensive hobbies with similarly pricey barriers of entry. Nothing really for the frugally financed. They kept walking into the main foyer area where they sat in a large booth, half the size of her apartment, with guitars lining the wall.
“Whiskey or wine?”
“Water.” Jane plopped down on a seat next to a particularly well-aged acoustic guitar, as her acquaintance ordered something from the menu. She picked up the guitar but something felt cheap about it. She tried to figure it out while the girl now in a white blouse and green miniskirt talked with two other women about astronomy.
There was a strange rock in front of them.
The waiter, a man with what looked like a singular tattoo pattern covering both arms and his neck, dropped off the water in a cheap-looking cup and the alcoholic beverage in a fancy glass near the budding astronomers. “Here’s a menu, just let me know when you’re ready to order.” “Thanks, so… what’s that rock all about.”
It was some humanitarian art installation.
She played a little bit of the guitar as her meat-free chowder arrived in a dog bowl with a silver spoon and some bread baked to look like dogs. “Your commentary on the contemporary relations between us and our furry friend with sourdough bread, ma’am. Anything else?” “I’m… good… thanks…”
She finished her hearty yet unfulfilling soup and said her goodbyes.
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: Going to a high-end club and feeling alienated and leaning into Club Stoic absurdism.|
|Related: Somewhere in the Sammohini Arc of “The Story.”|
|Picture: Generic picture to save time.|
|Written On: November 9th [30 minute bus ride]|
|Last Edited: November 10th [5-minute pass]|