Keyla insisted that the best part of the abandoned office was the swivel chairs. She was testing out each chair for this feature. Sometimes Naoko would see her, out of the corner of her eye, slowly rolling past, wheels squeaking in protest.
Naoko wasn't particularly bothered by it, though. It made her smile (just a little) as she sorted through the stale desk drawers and fumbled through the dusty vending machines.
After a while, Keyla drifted over to where Naoko was, leaning over the back of her chair with her chin propped up in her hands.
"Can you imagine working here?"
Naoko gave her a look over her shoulder. Keyla laughed.
"No, like, before everything," she clarified, waving a hand. "Could you imagine working in a place like this?"
"Yes."
"No, like, forever. For the rest of your life. Stuck here, in someplace like this. Doing boring work for boring people."
Naoko glanced at Keyla again.
"It certainly doesn't sound ideal," She offered.
The other girl narrowed her eyes at her.
"You don't sound very unhappy about the idea of it," Keyla murmured, and Naoko briefly wondered if she had hurt feelings.
"Should I?" Naoko asked, mostly to be polite.
"Well, yeah! It makes me think that maybe you could've ended up at some kind of place like this! Some soul-crushing job with a demanding schedule and minimal pay! Some mind-numbing routine of waking up, going to work, going home, going to sleep, and then starting all over again!"
Keyla threw her hands up in the air, eyes wide, horrified.
Naoko felt a weird pang of mixed emotions.
"Why are you talking about this?" She turned back to the desk drawers. "It's not like it's even an option now."
Keyla frowned and stayed quiet for the rest of the day.
YOU ARE READING
in the ataraxis of aftermath
RomanceThe postapocalyptic wastelands haven't been "good" to Naoko, but they haven't been "bad" to her either. They've been Something. Not bad, not good, just Something. Naoko decides she's fine with that.
