Re: Alex/Atticus
Was too old for arcades. Knew that, but had found himself on the dock that evening, a note in his hand. Had read it a few times. Had read it a few more times. Had decided he needed to think. His clothes fit. Assumed he owed that to his younger self. Almost laughed at the hilarity of that assumption. Of course he owed that to his younger self. Who else had dressed him? But, digressed. Had read the note, shoved it into his pocket in a messy crumple, and had walked. Wasn't walking anywhere specific, but found himself on Main Street. Was the lights. At night, in Repose, past the long and seemingly endless stretch of lake roads, there was Main. The neighborhood, which he'd passed on his right, was sleeping. Families reading books in beds, children snuggled up. Was an idyllic view, and he knew better. But was feeling nostalgia for something that had never existed.
Was nowhere near the full moon. Was safe.
Had no true notion of time passing. Not on the island. Not on the walk. The note helped somewhat, but was like reading a book and not quite grasping the timeline of events. The narrator of the note was unreliable and angry. Chuckled. Though it interesting that he could even manage to annoy himself in a future past.
But since time didn't move for him, his last visit here felt like it was yesterday. Except for the fact that he hadn't been downtown in months before the purchase of the island. Had locked himself away. Standing there, at the end of Main, still thought it had been a good idea. And now there was the note in his pocket. Contemplation lined an already lined brow, and he walked toward the sounds of music. Modern music. Nothing like his classics. Made him feel even more out of touch, but he reached the arcade and pushed open the door. Why not?
Went right for a beer, and then ambled to a nearby game. Kid was young. Reminded him of one of his students. Motioned with the beer to the screen. The haunts around barely lifted their dead heads. "Was always pretty good at that one."