[attr="class","appcat3"]Rythmic tapping. A wooden straight cane with a plain knob. An imposing mantel. His face told no stories, gave no signs. He had bought flowers just before. A bundle of dahlias. Clutched in a hand covered in a leather glove. Judah drifted through the streets. He strolled through the inner city.He blended in by sticking out. It was vibrant, colorful, lively. And he wasn't. So he was ignored. Nobody payed attention to him. Younger generations didn't notice him as they brushed passed. People in Hyperion lived quickly. They had no time to look at an old man.

Judah didn't mind. He liked being unnoticed. People in Hyperion are surprisingly social. They meet, fall in and fall out, make friendships and form bonds. But not with him. Perhaps it is a reflex that people have upon seeing him. Judah is made up of shades of grey. He seems unpleasant. Boring. Bland. Nobody ever approaches him. It is fine that way. Nobody is supposed to approach. He would rather approach people. He doesn't like not being in control. So he controls even little details like these. The probability of being talked to.

"Astrobucks". The sign reads. A chain of coffee shops for people in their mid to late twenties. A melting pot of everyone around these ages. Some teenagers, some people already far past their thirties trying to stay connected. At the pulse of time. It was his usual meeting spot with her. He always ordered the same thing. A regular coffee. Black. No sugar. It was decent. He had better, but this completely sufficed. He pulled out a newspaper from his mantel that now rested over the designer couch placed before a small wooden table. It wasn't warm outside, but he still wore it. Over a white shirt. Visibly tailored. He placed the dahlias in a small vase he ordered. She was usually a couple minutes too late. But he didn't mind. It was endearing. Because it was her. He would have hated anyone else. But she was different.

[attr="class","appcatsub3"]Tags: Eve Ingersoll