Memory Items Part 2
Underground Duct
Purple Bell Silvia: (same girl from other bells)
Dawn was just about to break and the subdued rays of morning light were finally spreading across the sky. I was taking my time, strolling through the bustling scene of the early hours. The clamor hurt my ears. Angry shouts rang from the main street, while flirts could be heard in the alleys.
I avoided the hubbub on my way. Just being in a foul place like this made me remember the life I'd led.
There was a shop with its door propped open. The music that wafted from within was not what you'd consider uplifting. The sign by the entrance was half-shrouded in dark.
The 'Silvia' adorned it.
"Boss, I think you've had enough," a sweet voice said from behind the bar.
The bartender was a long-haired woman in a sleeveless dress who was leaning against the wall.
"I know it's up to you, but I think you've been hitting the bottle hard lately."
The voice was young and lited, like of a male cat calling to a female.
"I think it might not-"
"Rika." A glass clattered hard against the bar's surface, cutting her off. Silence followed.
"Fine...Don't listen to me then."
The girl behind the counter took the glass to fill it, but grumbled in disapproval.
"I'm just saying this out of concern for you. You look exhausted these days. And the last lady to run this place...Well....you know."
"Rika." Again the glass hit the counter. A cigarette was lit. "Once your done, you can leave for today."
"Whaaat?"
"Do you want me to fire you?!" The woman bristled with anger, but the girl named Rika only shrugged her shoulders.
"Don't say that. If you deserted me, I'd be all alone."
The glass she placed on the bar didn't smell of the pungent alcohol. It was a white liquid.
"The last owner of this place died from alcohol poisoning. I don't want that to happen to you. See you tomorrow..."
There was the sound of high heels approaching. I darted behind the sign.
"Huh?"
Rika looked up and down the alley bathed in morning light.
"Silvia?"
I already knew who she was calling to by that name.
Rika gave a heavy sigh for the first time and dragged her feet down the dirty street. It was only when she was finally out of sight that I made up my mind. I'd never heard how Silvia had been brought up before she died. She was so shy and quiet, there wasn't much to say about her.
She was the one girl I didn't hate.
But now I was going to steal her name. At first, I thought it was revenge. It had to be. Revenge against them for living better lives than me. And it was revenge against my own cruel fate.
Step by step, I made my way through the half-open door into the shop and whispered. "Mama."
The woman was slumped over the bar, the same as when Rika first left. She sluggishly hoisted herself up to look at me and shook her head as though she wasn't sure what she was hearing. I whispered once more, "Mama."
That's when her barren eyes, laced with crow's feet, wrinkled in a squint.
"Oh...so it's you."
She laughed with tears in her eyes.
"You poor little thing...You look just the same as when you first came here."
Something about how she said that made her sound like Rika.
"Where have you been? You've been gone for so long....What have you been doing with yourself? Here, drink up. You can have this, it’s your favorite. I’ll give you whatever you need. Anything at all.”
“There’s a good girl.” She cooed in a slow drawl, offering me the glass. I wonder if Silvia was served warm milk like this the first time she came here.
“I’m sorry.” I whispered for the first time to myself.
I am Silvia. Silvia, with her purple bell. The little girl who was held close by Mama in a small downtown bar.
Yellow Bell Lotte:
A tall human was watering the garden. His white shirt and black slacks were simple and clean.
“Teacher!” As the two young children called out, a man who was watering the grass raised his head.
“Yes? Anything the matter?”
The man they called teacher kneeled down to peer at the young boy through his glasses.
“Teacher, when’s Lotte coming back?”
The question came from the little girl. Even from a distance, I could see the man’s face grow dark.
“Teacher, will Lotte ever come back?”
The little boy looked up expectantly, but the teacher could only furrow his eyebrows and purse his lips. More children gathered, questions alight on their small faces. Their matching white shirts were tattered with use.
I could imagine that Lotte, too, had joined this circle with her signature yellow bell. The young children didn’t appear to have parents. They lived in the big, plain house with the man they called “teacher.”
“Well, what’s taking her so long? She’s gone away before, but...” The teacher murmured an excuse, but the children wouldn’t be soothed.
“We wanna play with Lotte again!”
“M-Maybe Lotte’s sick.”
“Maybe she’s hurt.”
“I bet she misses us.”
“She must miss us.”
As worry spread among the children, the teacher asked them a question. “Let me ask you. Does it make you sad to think that Lotte’s lonely?"
"Of course."
"We miss her."
The teacher nodded and continued. "Then, if Lotte knew how you missed her, it'd make her sad. Right?" His voice was gentle.
As I watched from a distance, I hesitated momentarily. I knew that the yellow bell that Lotte possessed was from this orphanage, which was why I'd come. But I couldn't imagine that she really had a family in this place. Would anyone care if she were gone?
Their worries now put to rest, the children returned to their games. But one girl lingered behind. A freckled girl with curly hair.
"But...we're all..." The girl mumbled, looking down at her feet. "We're all still sad even if Lotte isn't lonely."
The teacher put his hand on top of the girl's head. "I suppose there are some things that can't be helped."
"I know what you do at night!" The girl blurted, looking at him hard. "If you really felt it couldn't be helped, you wouldn't be out searching for Lotte every night after we've gone to sleep."
The teacher quickly put a finger to his lips. "Everyone's worried enough as it is."
"But now I'm more worried about you, Teacher!"
The man simply nodded with a sad smile at the girl's words. "I know that. And I'm sorry."
Then, with the hose still in hand, he looked at the sky and spoke aloud. "Between you and me, I'm not all that worried about Lotte. I'm sure she'll still survive outside these walls. All that matters is that we considered her family. I'm sure she wants to treasure those words too, because the family we made here is the only one we've ever had. As far as I'm concerned, we're Lotte's family, and as long as she knows that, everything will be okay. And to be honest, I believe Lotte will return someday."
Night came and the lights in the orphanage winked out.
I slowly crept out from the shadows that spread before the orphanage. The moment the teacher saw me, he stopped in his tracks. The light from the full moon completely transformed me. I rang the bell, knowing it was all I could rely on.
"Lotte...is that you?"
Yes, yes. It's me, Lotte.
"So then, does this mean you're ready to come back to our home?"
But of course, if you'll have me that is.
Back at the orphanage, the freckled girl was trying her best to calm the children who were crying from the teacher's absence. For days now, she'd taken his place guarding them at night. Holding the young girl to him, the teacher announced my return to all the children, to all the family.
I am Lotte. Lotte, with her yellow bell. A gentle member of this orphanage with a bigger family than anyone could ask for.
Orange Bell Bisque:
Everyone in town called the old writer who lived in his house a weirdo.The house was old-fashioned, and the walls seemed weighted with history. So little care and upkeep had been done to the place, it wouldn't be a stretch to call it a dump. The front door was always open, and not because it wasn't locked, but because there was no lock at all. Some would think that an invitation to burglars, but the place was such a mess that you'd lose all interest in stealing the moment you stepped inside.
The house reflected its owner; an oddball, aged an in disarray.
And this day, that oddball writer was laying in the middle of this hallway. For a moment, I thought he was dead, but every once in awhile, his finger would twitch, betraying signs of it.
The bones in the back of his hand stood out, gnarled under paper thin skin, but his slicked black hair looked young. The back-framed glasses he habitually wore had stayed on, even after his fall. He'd probably worn those glasses so long that they were a part of his very being.
And there he lay. Weaving my way through the filth and the clothes and the furniture, I entered the house, and he didn't even notice.
"Bisque..." He called my name in a gravelly voice. With each call, my body would shiver with surprise and the bell would ring.
It was a refreshing sound. The old man must've heard it too. He immediately leapt off the floor and turned his back to me.
"Not another step!" The man almost spat out. "I don't want you coming near me."
And with that, he went back to the mountain of papers that buried what might have been a desk. His hand never stopped moving as he scratched at his head. Believe it or not, he'd call out, drop to the floor and do it all again.
I was thoroughly baffled, and so I sat in the corner of the writer's room until night fell. The bell at my neck continued to tinkle lightly as I tilted my head.
Can this man truly be Bisque's family?
I came to check up on him every few days, but each time he'd act just as wild and nonsensical. When he wasn't throwing himself on the floor, he was completely immersed in his writing. Disturbed by his unnatural behavior, I tried my best not to allow my bell to ring. And so I stayed nestled in the corner, until I finally heard the sound of a pen sliding across the desk.
"Phew..." A loud sigh was immediately followed by a loud thud. He'd fallen backwards off this chair. "Finally. Finished."
The way he breathed those words sounded so unlike his usual crazed tone. I lifted my head and the bell chimed to him gently. With his back still on the floor, he let out a low moan. "Oh, Bisque. Bisque, my dear."
I was sure he'd yell at me to stay away again today, but instead he just lifted his thin, ghost-like arm and gestured to me. Just as I neared him with my careful, steady steps, he suddenly grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and dragged me down with him.
At first, I went stiff with fear, but then I heard the beating of his heart. He gently closed his eyes and petted me. "Ah, Bisque, is that you...? You've gotten so much thinner....since I last saw you."
His bony hands were rough, but he petted me softly. As I sat there, unable to answer, the beating of his heart became softer and softer. He continued to coo at me gently.
"Phew...Finally, I'm able to sleep."
His last words sounded more like he was speaking them from a dream. As the hand on me never wavered, I finally realized. My doubts were cleared.
I understood now that this was the orange-belled Bisque's family. And as I gently closed my eyes, I could feel the sound of my own heartbeat slowly melting free of its ice.
I am Bisque. Bisque, with her orange bell. The foster child who brings peaceful slumber to the master writer, whom everyone called crazy.
Silver Bell Chris:
The silver bell wasn't a particularly outstanding decoration, but it did ring the most beautifully. I'd always wondered what kind of home such a lovely came had come from.
It belonged to an old woman who lived alone without relatives, in a large mansion I'd never seen before.
"Madam, it's time for supper."
"Thank you, dear."
"Madam, the lilies in the garden have bloomed. I've put them in this vase."
"What a lovely scent."
"Madam, it's started raining. Allow me to close the windows."
"Yes, and draw the curtains, too."
The old woman was weighted on hand and foot by her servants. She'd rely on her help as she sat idle in her chair, listening to her favorite music. She'd even ask them to change out the records, but most of the servants seemed to genuinely adore their employer. But there was one thing the old woman would ask several times a day.
"Excuse me, but could you call Chris here for me?"
Later that same day...
"Oh, where is Chris?"
And again, even later...
"Please find Chris for me."
Though normally obedient, this one request was always met with hesitation.
"Madam, Chris is already..." The maids would start cautiously. "Oh yes, you're quite right," the old woman would say, cutting them off.
"She's not with us anymore, is she? Hm...I'd nearly forgotten..."
She'd murmur with a nod, but not a few hours later, she'd ask the same questions again. She had them stop her favorite record.
"Oh, wherever could my darling Chris be?"
One rainy night, the mansion was in an uproar.
"Madam?"
"Madam!"
The servants dashed through the halls in a frenzy. Finally, one of the maids shouted in despair.
"Why can't I find her cane?!"
Though it wasn't too cold outside, the sheets of rain continued to pour relentlessly.
"She couldn't have gone outside, could she?"
A chill passed over the gathered servants before they set out. They put on their coats and called for help outside. I tore my eyes from them and made for the rain drenched town.
Amidst the downpour, I smelled the sweet fragrance of a lily in the back lane of a park, far from the mansion. I made out the figure of the old woman.
She was surrounded by a crowd who moved and grabbed around her.
"C'mon, lady, you'll catch your death out here. Maybe you should see the police."
The woman's shows and designer clothes were soaked through. A man tried taking her by the hand, but the old woman refused to budge, her face adamant.
Fed up with her antics, the men finally left, leaving her behind. I cautiously stepped just into her field of vision and without saying a word, rang my silver bell.
It rang clear through the rain. The old woman raised her hand sharply in surprise, her blurry eyes looking at me.
"Chris...?"
The old lady gasped. I rang the bell again in a nod and turned around.
"Chris, wait! Wait for me!"
Her cane clicked as she followed me. I may not be able to carry her all the way to the mansion, but it'd be enough to bring her to her servants. I stopped often to look over my shoulder, to make sure I didn't lose her.
The sound of that beautiful bell was a beacon.
At last, one of the servants noticed the old woman and shouted "Madam!"As she ran towards her, the woman bent down to scoop me up and held me, trembling.
The servants weren't able to hide their surprise, seeing how much the late Chris had changed upon her return. Not one of the said I wasn't Chris. Because the old woman called me so, the maids nodded in obedience, just glad that their beloved employer had returned home safe.
I am Chris. Chris with her silver bell. I'm tiny, adorable Chris, loved by her grandmother in this grand mansion.
Pink Bell Maria 1:
I've gained so much. Gentle hands and many, many new names.
Monday's Anri.
Tuesday's Fleur.
Wednesday's Silvia.
Thursday's Lotte.
Friday's Bisque.
Saturday's Chris.
And for just one day, I'm no one else but myself. It was supposed to be revenge. Revenge for the deceased girls who'd led a better life than I. With vengeance and blasphemy laid to rest, all that's left is me. A lie.
Before I knew, I began wondering about the future. When? Tell me, When? When will I fall in love?
Once I find someone who loves me, I'll finally be given a name. Not just someone else's substitute, but a name all my own. That's what I decided.
So then why? Why did I have to meet him?
He lived on a cliff face that looked down on the town. His features were considered striking, his posture regal, but those weren't the only things that made me stop in my tracks. I didn't really need a reason.
Because to him, it didn't matter what bell I put on. Nothing would change that fact that I was nothing.
A bell with two stripes of light pink lay at this feet. It didn't belong to him. The bell, like his love, was waste on the street.
His features knew despair. You could see the hollowness of death in his eyes. No matter how much I stared or spoke, he never once looked back at me.
I gingerly pick up the rosy pink bell. Its soft sound should be enough to reach his ears, stir his heart and open his eyes. Then, in a husky voice, he would speak in a tone drowning in emotion. He will call out the name of his past love.
"...Maria?"
And I'll choke up with emotion, and smile as I say "That's right. I'm your Maria." And then, there won't be any real me left in this world.
"Please. Tell me your real name."
I giggle softly and answer again. "I'm Maria." His brow will surely furrow as he snuggles close.
"That's not your name. It can't be."
But that's the name of your beloved ,right? I loved you. But the one that you loved was never me at all. You loved the real owner of this pink bell. Imagine it, a rival whom even death couldn't kill. The one woman he really loved. I hated her, cursed her, and stole her name and identity. And I'd do it, no matter how miserable it makes me.
"Oh Maria. If we'd never met then I'm sure I'd have rotted away right on the spot!"
Those are the only words that can bring me salvation now. As long as you're happy, then I'll never need a silly name.
A storm was brewing. The high winds that had been beating on the windows since morning gathered dark clouds and pelted the forest trees. I leapt from the safety of the old woman's blanket, raced through the town, and headed for the mountain cottage.
My old hideout. I'd take a bell and think about the past each time I came here. I go by many names now. So whose ghost remains in this dreary mountain hut?
A brilliant flash of light, coupled with thunder, filled the sky.
Every hair on my body stood on end. There was a tearing sound of wood splitting. Chills ran down my spine. I quickened my pace without thinking. A tremor crept down my back. The scene that greeted me as I reached that hut was indescribable.
A massive cloud of smoke clogged my nose and burned my skin.
The mountain was on fire, and the gusty winds helped spread the flames quickly. In my panic, I dove into the hut.
The heat was as hot as stoked coals. But through the burning and stench; I knew I had to salvage my bells. They'd been proof that the girls had lived and now they were the one place I felt at home. I gathered the seven bells and made for my escape, but the hut entrance was already engulfed in flames.
I leapt through the broken window, feeling as though I was being burned alive. I could hear the destruction all about me. Just outside the window was the cliff face. I jumped down from my perch, prepared to take the dive.
Through it all, I kept the seven bells tightly held in my mouth.
Pink Bell Maria 2:
After falling unconscious, I awoke to the pattering of raindrops. I could still smell the mountainside burning, but the rain was now falling harder than before.
I knew I was far from safe. Nestled close against the ground, I'd already lost the sensations in both my arms and legs. I asked the heavens if this was my punishment. Was this what I deserved for having taken a dead girls' happiness as my own, in a twisted and shameless act?
"...!"
Through the ash ridden world, a voice was calling me. No, that's not my name. And yet...
"Maria! Maria!"
Yes, the one calling me was none other than my beloved.
"Maria, hang in there! Don't die on me!"
"Oh, yes! My love! My one true love! Don't give up!" I whispered desperately. Don't give into the despair, please! ...Live!
I thought that if he lost me, he'd never see his precious Maria again. And it wasn't just him.
Anri. Fleur. Silvia. Lotte. Bisque. Chris...
They'd all been beautiful.
"Don't kill me!" I shouted "Please don't kill the ones you love."
Trembling, I handed the seven bells over to him. If you can, take these in my place. Just don't let their loving families lost all hope.
He looked at me as if wanting to speak. Then, taking the bells with him, he turned and ran.
As his figure became smaller and smaller, it was eventually washed away by the rain. I tried calling his name, but couldn't form the words. If I managed to speak, I might make the mistake telling him something I could never say.
As I thought about how the cold rain would sweep away the fire along with my soul, I thought of the last person who'd considered me family.
I may not have been the one they loved, but I certainly loved the warm and gentle hands that touched me. I lied and desecrated the dead, all for my revenge.
And yet here I was, crying.
Here, on the brink of death, I'd come closest to those girls and could finally, truly cry for them. After all, you know how it is. You must know, right? All you wanted...was to live.
The rain washed the mountainside gray, draining the light from everything. I was cloaked in darkness and rain.
Then I heard the faint sound of a bell ringing.
At least I could tell that my ears were still working. I focused my senses on the source. Then, just behind the sound, I heard footsteps and voices approaching.
"C'mon, Anri!"
I thought I was hearing things. It had to just be a memory enclosed inside that bell. After all, no one would call for me.
"Fleur!"
"Silvia!"
I can't be...My eyelids fluttered. Why...? From beyond the falling ash, I could make out figures.
They circled around me. The boy, the boss, Mama...
"Lotte!"
"Bisque!"
"Chris!"
No. The children...and the teacher. The master writer, and Grandmother!
"No!" I tried to scream, but failed. No, don't look at me! You'll see through my lies! Don't hate me!
I was never the girls that all of you loved.
"We already knew that." was the one who used the seven bells to gather everyone here.
You snuggled close to me as I was wrapped in a warm towel. As you kept me warm, you dropped the seven bells.
"Heh heh. We already knew that. All along."
He sounded on the verge of tears, as he kissed my cheek.
"Don't you see? The ones we loved weren't the ghosts from the past." His words forgave me.
"We all know you made up those lies to try and help us. No one else but you could have made us feel so good, could bring us so much joy. It was all thanks to you and your seven bells."
I closed my eyes, the tears still streaming. I thought my life was just one life after another. But no longer. I finally understood it now. My name will be the seven colored bell. A name given to me by my loving family and friends.
I am Bell. Carrying my seven colors, I was the most loved in town.
I am Bell. And I was luckiest cat in the world for having seven names.
Baby Sock: (father)
Though you're still so small, you'll soon be born, so this message is for you.
There may come a day when you'll curse being born into this world. You'll wonder what you did to deserve this. And you'll probably have plenty of bitter words to tell me. But...But I don't think I'll be around by then to listen to your complaints.
I want you to know how truly sorry I am. I just want you to believe this. No matter what happens, all we wanted was for you to be happy.
Ledger: (woman)
To Do List:
1) Eat a whole cake by myself.
2) Share a meal with my family.
3) Visit all the friends I can.
4) Read all the books I've wanted to.
5) Buy the clothes I always dreamed of.
6) Make up with that certain somebody.
Laboratory
Scientist's Mug: (Woman and man)
Here you are.
Thanks. Mm, smells great. I swear, you brew a mean cup of joe.
You can thank the coffee maker for that.
Nah, it's more than that.
I don't have time for this. Please get back to your work.
Aw, come on. You deserve a coffee break, too. Join me.
No, thank you. I have duties to attend to.
Always the diligent worker.
Compared to your idleness, perhaps, Doctor.
The team doesn't need a dimwit like me to get the job done right. They're plenty smart enough.
But, doctor. You were supposed to be one of the finest in the world.
Yeah. That's why I think they made a mistake.
Hardly. All you lack is the drive.
I don't prescribe to the 'where there's a will' belief.
Doctor.
I know, I know. I've still got a job to do. So I'll do it.
In that case, would you please get on with it?
Journal: (man)
August 2nd.
Today was just like any other. Quiet. Uneventful. Which I couldn't be more thankful for. Even so, the speed at which this research is progressing leaves me astonished. People think it's that genius' work, but from my standpoint. I think we're moving too fast on this.
There's....something no right about it...The scientist in me wants more proof.
In fact, I don't feel that there's any need to rush something like this...She could stand to take it easier, too. Of course, she'd chew me out, if I ever told her that.
My assistant is a little too diligent. She won't let me get away with slacking. Oh, well. Anything looks like slacking compared to her work. I haven't a doubt that working under a more promising researcher would guarantee her a brighter future. I've found plenty of opportunities for her to relocate, but...she's more stubborn than I thought.
Either way, I more than welcome the idea of drinking her coffee everyday.
...Hm. Just writing about coffee has me craving some now. Hey! Another cup, please!
Assistant's Cup: (man and woman)
Well, well. Things have definitely taken a turn for the weird.
...
This is something else. I mean, we're guilty of murdering mankind.
...
...Don't you have anything to say?
Please. I thought we didn't need words.
That's true, but come on. I like the sound of your voice.
Are you looking to be written up?
Sheesh, can't you take a joke?
...How? How can you remain so calm about this?
You're the one acting unfazed.
Yes, but you know my true feelings. I'm scared...I'm scared of dying.
That's normal.
But you're not alarmed in the least! You...You knew this would happen!
You're reading too much into this. I'm just a scientist who hates to work.
But...!
You know what I could use? A nice cup of coffee.
You want coffee at a time like this?
You know that caffeine can keep you from sleeping.
You can't escape it forever.
Yeah, so can't you do me this one favor? There's nothing else I'd rather have as my last drink.
...Fine, then.
I don't take milk with it. And for sugar...
Two spoonfuls. I know how you like it, Doctor.
Good. Thank you.
Excuse me, but...
Yeah?
Um...Can I join you?
Of course.
Withered Plant: (Mao, the botanist.)
Where did you come from? Where are you going? I'm sure you come from some place I don't know, going some place I can't follow.
I....don't think I have that much longer to live. In my University laboratory, I dedicated myself to the study of botanical genetics. While in the midst of my studies, I fell ill and suffered a high fever that attacked my nervous system. The culprit was a bacterium attached to a mushroom I used in the lab. When the bacterium enters the body, it causes a high fever that can lead to long-term damage.
By the time I realized the dangers of the bacterium, it was already too late. I was already infected.
My illness did not take my life. Though there were aftereffects, they were light and, thankfully, I survived. Although I am now physically healthy, I am left with deep emotional scars. I have realized an unforgivable sin I committed in the past.
There was a girl from my childhood who I used to talk about dreams with. My dream was to become a botanist and engineer a flower with a color like the world had never seen before. She aspired to be a prima ballerina and grace the stage before millions. But she came down with a terrible fever that attacked her nervous system.
Looking back on it now, the cause behind it was the bacterium on the Moonlight Mushrooms I had on me at the time.
I cared for her deeply. I wanted her dream to come true, but while I immersed myself in my botanical studies to make her stage of flowers a reality, I lost track of what was important. Without her, my dream had no point.
By the time I realized it, it was too late. My naive and self-centered actions, took away not only her dreams, but also took her away from me.
Tormented by guilt and despair, I tried to kill the pain with alcohol. Before I knew it, I was failing my lab courses. I couldn't show my face at home. Being stripped of all else, I only had my research left to live for. I killed off my emotions and completely devoted myself to my studies. All I leave behind is this letter and a potted plant.
It was the fruit of my many years of research. If you have a moment, would you lease look at it. If you happen to be reading this in the light of day, it probably looks like a snow white flower. If it's night, the petals are probably glowing blue and shedding light around them, like a lantern would. But if it's crimson dusk, I imagine it's letting off a warm light, like that of a flickering pink.
What color flower is it now?
Red Tower (Tokyo Tower)
Sedative: (woman)
Every day time passes like normal. People wake up and go about their lives like normal. Night comes like normal. And everybody sleeps like normal.
I can't do things like normal. So, I guess that makes me a little weird. I don't remember how I got to be like this. I'm not sure when it started. But one day, I finally realized that the nights seemed to last forever.
At first, it didn't really bother me. It wasn't anything to worry about. But I think I'm losing my mind. The medicine the doctor gave me is starting to wear off. I finally understood what they meant when they said that trying too hard to sleep only ends up making it more difficult.
So, after endless, futile attempts. I just gave up trying to sleep altogether. But walking around town in the dark doesn't seem to be helping much, either.
Guitar: (woman and man)
"Oh"
This used to be a popular make out spot. And even though there's no one to listen, that guy's sitting there as always, playing his guitar.
"Oh, hey there."
"Oh. Hello."
"Out on your nightly walk?"
"I see you're here as usual, too."
"Yeah, guess so. So how you holding up? Still can't sleep?"
"If I could, I wouldn't be here, now would I?"
"Hahahah! Touche."
"....Keep playing that song."
"Now this is a surprise. You've never said anything nice before."
"What can I say? Your songs put me to sleep."
"Hmph...I'll take that as a compliment."
Tailored jacket: (man and woman)
"Yo."
"Well this is a surprise. I didn't expect to see you here. Guess not even a worldwide calamity can shake you from your spot."
"Heh heh! Right back at you."
"...Point taken."
"You want me to spare your ears tonight?"
"Why?"
"Cuz you don't wanna sleep?"
"No, actually. Put me to sleep."
"...Interesting. And just why do you want that?"
"I just...I just don't want my insomnia to make me the last person on earth."
"I see."
"It's just that...my dad, my mom, all my friends....they all feel asleep, and..."
"I know.
...Hey now. You already asleep?
You'll catch a cold out here. Here, borrow my jacket.
I...don't feel like dozing off just yet.
See? Now you don't have to worry about being the last one."