neon patch

“I can feel it all right there—just on the edge. I just don’t know why nothing’s changed.” Arturo leaned down to sip his whiskey neat, with a straw, as the neon glow from the dance floor made soft patches of light across his face. 

His buddy Niko gave him that sweet-summer grin, the one only he could do. His smile would stretch so wide as if he was picking up on the first sense of summer. And when Niko got like that, you knew he was about to drop gold. 

“Uh-uh,” Niko called back, leaning back in his chair, extending his fishnet covered arms into an open stretch of freedom, “everything’s changed, my brother, what’s the same is you.”

“Yeah? How you figure?”

“You can’t keep looking backwards at what you left. All you’ll see is what’s still behind. The past don’t change. You gotta start looking ahead. It’s all coming at you. So turn the damn around already so you can see it.”

Arturo paused, his lips still pressed around his straw, as Niko, printed in patches of neon, simply leaned back once more and grinned.

-b

July 21, 2020

Photo Credit: Chester Wade