The City is a place where everything resets after the lights have gone out: relationships, conversations, memories. Everything is inside an irreversible loop and no one knows it. All except for one girl.
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Jule, a resident of the City...
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I blew a strand of hair from my face as I prodded my lunch with my spoon. If it wasn't fried meat balls, it's soggy pasta for lunch. But hey, it's free. What could I expect?
Porter, my "friend" and classmate for about two subjects sat beside me, opposite Nicola, my other "friend" and classmate for three subjects. These two were the ones that permanently stuck to me during lunch because apparently, we have friendships that I wasn't aware of.
I memorized all their lines even when I was barely with them since I usually go back home for lunch, go out to the nearby steak place, or never eat lunch at all. Between those choices, I usually pick hanging out with them when I am in the mood for soggy pasta...or gritty meatballs.
Porter licked his fingers, the sound irking me more than it should have. He insisted on tearing at his meatballs with his bare hands and he ate them everyday. Before, I tried keeping him from doing it because there's no soap in any of the comfort rooms and his hands would smell like meatballs for the rest of the day. He listens to me for a day but after the reset, I would have to do it again.
I just didn't bother anymore.
Nicola had her head propped on her fist, her elbow resting on the table. She had her phone in her hand, the bright pink sequins jingling on the back cover was enough to give me vertigo. She barely looked at us during lunch and would only do so when Porter drops his meatball piece on his gravy.
Sometimes, I stop Porter from doing so by a well-timed distraction that always seemed to work, because I couldn't look at Nicola's heavy eye make-up for the life of me.
It's not because it's bad or anything. The colors she used on her eyes just makes it look like she plastered the sequins from her phone cover to her lids. It's unsettling.
But, who am I to judge people based on their make-up tastes? It's not like Nicola can change it just because I want it to. Hmm...should I crash her house before she goes to school?
I shook my head, dismissing the thought. It's just like with Porter and his method of eating meatballs. I'll get tired of it eventually so why start doing it now?
I thrust my fork into my soggy pasta and twisted a forkful. It tasted like garlic and mayonnaise.
It wasn't bad or anything. It just wasn't to my liking, probably after hundreds of days of eating nothing but it for lunch. I was just avoiding washing dishes at home so I was eating out here.
Lunch began around fifteen minutes ago, which means five minutes before any of my companions speak. Which also means forty more minutes before lunch is over. Ugh.
After a ton of thick silence, Porter smacked his lips, his breath whiffing towards me in an unholy mixture of mints and frying oil. "So, Mr. Miller shaved my goatee at PE earlier," he began.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I hear this everyday. Instead, I shrugged. "Should've listened to him when he told you to stop showing up with a goatee," I droned with a bored voice.
