SWARTHOS

The air was thick and wet in Los Angeles this Saturday morning. The sun had yet to rise, but still the city was buzzing, getting ready to come alive. I had ventured out to the compound at the crack of dawn, half expecting to be surprised by a gang of itinerants camped at the entrance. Though, I suppose I should feel lucky that I wasn’t. I’d managed to get my pressure reading, turn on the security system, and was now free to do whatever I pleased.

Video gaming was calling my name as I drifted away from the compound parking lot and headed home. I was looking forward to a lengthy stint of exploration and adventure. Starfield on the Xbox X is my drug of choice, and then I thought about running the Red Mile once more and perhaps I could convince Mei to marry me but I don’t think it’s in her algorithm to do so.

But, I couldn’t commit to one plan or another: my coffee was calling, too. Espresso, I thought, the perfect companion for such a solo Saturday. I had to concede that I was trying to put off my balcony vigil, scanning the morning horizon for something to define my day ahead. But I wasn’t naive; I knew exactly what I was looking for: a sign of the freedom I’d fought to find since I first arrived in this city. I’d done a lot of thinking over the past few months, wandering through the desert wastes in my quest to find it, but for now I was content to just sit and drink my coffee.

Any day spent seeking adventure, exploring alleys and avenues I’ve never seen, is certainly a day worth living in my book.