A second voice breath, demused. Same hoodie vibe. Told you he never changed.
A soft laugh. I heard he’s stocking shelves somewhere. Please.
My cousin says he’s back in his aunt’s place. Wow. Five years and nothing.
He kept walking. The carpet cushioned his steps. On the stage.
A slideshow flashed high school photos. Lacrosse jerseys. From Crowns.
A science fair ribbon he’d once refused to pose with. The emcee, Tyler Voss, jaw-tight, cufflinks loud. Tap the mic.
Reunited and richer? Laughter. We’ll see. Marcus chose a table near the back.
Half-shadow, good sightline. He set down a glass of water and watched the room the way coders watch logs. Quietly, looking for signals.
Brooke Whitman floated by with a champagne flute. Diamond earrings catching the LED wash. Marcus.
Her smile didn’t touch her eyes. Wassup, stranger? You look vintage. She didn’t wait for an answer.
At the bar. A card machine beeped with that particular denial chirp. Chase cleared his throat.
Snatched his card back. Tried another. The bartender turned the screen discreetly.
Too polished to announce the fail. Two guys nearby filled the silence. Did you hear? Chase’s app folded.
Again. Sure, investors hate public autopsies. Tyler pushed the mic again.
Alright, alright. Quick games. Then and now.
Photos rolled. Lawyers. Med school.
A Pilates studio grand opening. When Marcus’s slide slot arrived, the frame held only a blank gray square. Photo not provided.
A snort broke, then another. Guess some stories don’t upload. Tyler said faux sad.
More laughter. Marcus sipped water. The glass left a damp ring that he wiped with one slow circle of his sleeve.
He felt a base in his sternum. A chatter skimming his skin. A pair of girls drifted behind him, oblivious to how close their whispers carried.
Who invited him? Tyler, the other said. Said it’d be hilarious. Full circle pep talk.
Savage. Relax. It’s just a joke.
Brooke reappeared with a cluster. Chase. Haley Roman…
Обсуждение закрыто.