Page 35 of Broken Chorus

Didn’t he fuckin’ get it!

There would be no midnight treks through the neon garden if Aaron uprooted his life and moved up there with Hawk. There would be nothing but an endless stream of housework, interrupted sleep, meltdowns and sticky fingerprints.

Aaron needed to get that through his fuckin’ head…before he shattered Hawk’s heart to pieces.

Torn between furious and crushed, Aaron sat there glaring at the neon around him. The Alice in Wonderland vibe had been awonderfully mellow trip at first, now all he could see was the way the glow made each of character look a little monstrous and sad.

Twisted.

Broken.

Like him.

He hadn’t come here looking for inspiration or anything really besides a trip through the colors. But the longer he sat, the easier it was to spot the cracks, the flaws, the sadness in the eyes of the cat, even when it was smiling.

One of the first lessons he’d learned in his grandparents house was how to smile in front of company and play in complete silence, so he would be seen as happy and obedient, even when he didn’t understand why his mother had left him with people who only smiled at him when other people were around.

Fury washed over him, bitterness too. He grabbed his notebook and pen out of his back pocket and angrily started scribbling words that were half letter and half lyrics. He got so lost in pouring his pain onto the page, that he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until something jingled, then clattered when it hit the ground. Aaron glanced up to see a large shadow-shape stooping to pick something up off the ground.

“Sorry about that,” the guy said. “Didn’t mean to disturb you. Just trying to get some footage of the place.”

“It’s pretty awesome, isn’t it,” Aaron said as he paused to look around again.

“I’ll be gone in a few minutes.”

Aaron snorted and lay the notebook on the lip of the cup he was still sitting in. It was a cool design for a bench. Back when his old band was about to release their third album, they’d done a photoshoot here, several of the images making the inside of the cover. This exhibit would have been a favorite if it had existed back then. It would have made for an awesome backdrop to the group shot with them all gathered in and around the cup.

“No worries, you weren’t interrupting anything,” Aaron said.

“You looked pretty busy to me.”

“Naa, just pissed off scribblings that won’t amount to anything.”

“Sad.”

“Not really. There are enough angry, angst fueled lyrics out there, the world doesn’t need mine.”

“You shouldn’t assume that,” the guy said. “You never know what might resonate with someone.”

“Maybe, but if it doesn’t matter to the one person you want it to, then what’s the point?”

“Could be that’s the problem,” the guy replied as he moved around, shooting footage while he spoke. “You’re thinking of points, but points are tiny, insignificant specks in an ocean of possibilities.”

“Maybe I should just hand over my notebook and let you write,” Aaron offered. “You’ve got a cool way with words.”

“Meh, I do okay. My brother, on the other hand, is amazing with them. Writes all kinds of poems and lyrics and shit. The best I can do is string a few together and hope I don’t come off sounding like a fortune cookie.”

“Hey, some of those fortune cookie companies could probably use an upgrade to their messages,” Aaron offered. “The last time I ordered takeout, I wound up with two that said the same thing and one that was blank. It didn’t even have the lottery numbers on the back.”

“Yeah, and what did the two identical ones say?”

“Don’t dream, do.”

“That’s not bad advice.”

“It is when you’re dreams are unattainable.”

“Nothing is unattainable until you give up.”

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