The dusty, brown lights in the City illuminated monochrome rows of buildings. Cubes and lines. There was little movement, except for a crumpled piece of trash scraping along the sidewalk. Dust and mist floated carelessly down the urban corridors, shining like grains of sand as they passed beneath the streetlights.

Quiet. It was a quiet night in the heart of the City. Farza walked, crossing streets and alternating between the sidewalk and the curb, following an instinct he had harbored since childhood. A low hum, a whisper, beat through the vacant streets like a sleeping electric dragon. Farza wanted to meet someone. He hoped he would. He was a lonely man.

He flicked a lighter and brought a small tongue of fire to his mouth. He lit his cigar. It made him feel cool. Smoking is cool if the smoker is cool. He heard that somewhere.

His footsteps echoed on the concrete, sending little spiderwebs of sound up the walls of the buildings he passed.

“Farza!”

He jumped, stopped, turned around. A silhouetted form was flanking him, hunched over and looking in the dark like a ball of black NOTHING. He recognized the voice though. Feminine and urgent, but still cool as a cigar.

“Hey,” he said, throat dry. It was Sada. “Scared me.”

“Sorry,” Sada breathed. The ball of blackness faded away, became a human. Pretty human, thought Farza, recalling without meaning to the way she looked and felt pressed up against him in the flat white beds in nameless countless cities. The muted TV flashed in the corner. Some imagery maintains a primal focus.

“Night stroll?” Farza said, half inquiry, half offer. He extended the hand that wasn’t gripping the smoking cigar. Sada took it. Her heels clicked sharply on the sidewalk. More echoes.

“Sure. Thanks.” They resumed walking into the night. There was no breeze. Trees nearby, planted there by the City, glowed like torches in the sepia-themed darkness. A streetlight flickered. Farza saw only Sada’s profile: small nose with a tiny diamond in it, pursed full lips on the cusp of a curse or a sigh. She smelled faintly of roses. Again Farza thought of the hotel rooms, the scented water, and incense that worked too hard.

Farza pulled on his cigar and the end bloomed like a cherry blossom in April. Spices suffused his mouth. He exhaled and watched the smoke curl away in the orange gloom. Their footsteps were a duet. He felt cool. For a moment, he was not lonely.