The Heart System Chapter 1

The sharp tang of the cigarette cut through the cool evening breeze, with wisps of smoke floating beyond the open window. I lingered by the frame for a bit, observing the city stirring—vehicles gliding along the road, a boy racing on his bicycle, the nearby shop sparking its glowing sign awake. The scene stayed routine, yet I never tired of the sight. It filled the idle moments before my shift.

I flicked the ash into the ashtray, crushed out the cigarette midway, and stepped back inside. My outfit lay ready on the chair: dark jeans, a fresh shirt, my coat. I donned them one by one, the actions routine and honed. Solitary life created this order—objects remained put, free of shocks, only my own disarray.

A quick glance in the door mirror halted me briefly. My gaze showed signs of too little sleep, though that came as no surprise. With a damp palm, I smoothed my hair sufficiently and picked up my keys.

Twenty minutes to my gas station duty. One more evening of scanning cards, replenishing racks, and tuning into folks' midnight confessions. Lacking glamour, but it kept the roof over my head.

I tucked the lighter into my pocket, closed the door, and ventured forth.

Shadows cloaked the corridor, the fixture above droning as though eager to expire. I secured the lock, pocketed the keys, and moved toward the steps.

That’s when I spotted her.

Jasmine, the woman living next door, leaned halfway from her entrance, cigarette clutched in one hand, the other draped casually on her waist. A fellow in a sweatshirt brushed by me, chin lowered, dodging glances while fastening his pants. Jasmine offered him a sluggish flick of her cigarette in farewell, vapors twisting around her knowing grin. Yet another of her patrons. This insatiable vixen, honestly...

"Come back when your wallet forgives you, baby," she purred after him.

The fellow grumbled a reply and hurried away.

Then her gaze shifted to me.

She wore her typical attire: undergarments in place of proper dress. Dark lace hugged her bosom so snugly it seemed on the verge of tearing, her breasts straining the delicate material, full and alluring. The silken robe draped over it hung loosely knotted, slipping from one shoulder to reveal flawless flesh. Her legs showed bare, the swell of her rear peeking as she moved. She appeared not bound for sleep, but rather poised to entice some vivid dream.

"Well, well. Morning, Evan." Tendrils of smoke accompanied her grin as she sized me up. "Off to rule your sparkling realm at the till?"

"Yeah," I replied, tugging at my coat. "Business as usual."

She inhaled deeply, her lips too vividly crimson for the dawn, then released the breath gradually. "You know, you pass by me each and every day, yet you never sample the goods. What does a lady need to do? Throw in a friendly neighbor's bargain?"

I grinned faintly, shaking my head. "I'm certain even the bargain price is beyond my means."

"Oh, darling, you'd be amazed at what I reserve for a good neighbor." She bent forward, her décolletage prominent, her tone turning husky and suggestive. "You strike me as someone who holds it all in. You require release from somebody before it festers inside."

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, keeping my pace. "You say that on every occasion."

"Because it's accurate every time." She tapped her ash, watching me with a crafty smile. "Soon enough, you'll surrender. And once you do, you'll regret delaying our fun."

I let out a quiet laugh, descending the curb. "I'll remember that."

"You should," she shouted behind me, her voice teasing. "I could even deduct ten percent for you. Exclusive deal, for the guy right next door."

I dismissed her with a wave, not glancing back. The usual exchange, another morning.

The road beyond buzzed with activity. Autos jammed tightly, horns wailing pointlessly. Even under the sun, vivid signs hummed, promoting nightspots, secondhand dealers, rubdown spots, and countless quick-eat places jammed together. A lady in stilettos hurried by, her scent piercing the exhaust fumes. In the distance, a seller bellowed about steaming-hot pastries, ignored by the throng surging ahead.

I zipped my coat higher and merged into the stream, allowing the clamor to envelop me. Crowds swarmed—features illuminated by devices, stares vacant, hurrying as if the urban sprawl would devour any who lingered.

The transit halt lay nearby, its panels scratched with tags and the seat stuck with discarded chews. Some youths in uniforms scuffed at each other's footwear, an elderly gent whispered to thin air, and a pair of women in form-fitting attire tittered at a display. I propped against the post, fished out my mobile, and browsed aimlessly. Unread notes I ignored, streams of faked excitement from others' days.

Time crawled until the vehicle arrived with a grind of tires. Panels slid apart, and the mass pushed in. I joined the press, squeezing by arms and satchels. The interior felt stuffy, thick with perspiration and cramped quarters.

I snagged a spot midway, squeezed between a businessman napping by the pane and a lady balancing shopping sacks. Uncozy, yet preferable to on-foot.

I stowed my device away, leaned my head on the rest as the ride jerked ahead, drawing me further into the urban shimmer.

The transport bumped along the boulevard, each halt cramming in more riders until the passage jammed tight. I tilted to one side, gadget left behind, gaze roaming the packed figures.

That’s when I noticed him.

A fellow around middle age, wedged too snugly after a young woman no older than two decades. She possessed flowing chestnut locks grazing her collar, a gentle visage diminished by her downward stare. Her hem fell just past her knees, fingers gripping her satchel's handle like armor. With each lurch, his palm moved, grazing her side, her rear, far too intentional for coincidence.

Her mouth clenched. She inched aside, but he trailed, erasing the space, feigning the vehicle's motion.

I breathed out sharply, rose from my perch. "Here," I offered, gesturing to the vacant area. "Have a seat."

Her look lifted, startled. "Oh, no, that’s okay. I don’t—"

"I insist," I interrupted, moving out of the way.

She paused, then sank down as if unsteady. Her words came faint, nearly cracking. "...Thank you."

I nodded curtly and pivoted, positioning in the walkway, fingers on the upper rail. The man lingered, gaze averted, acting as if undetected.

I stared directly until his met mine. Uttered nothing. Allowed the quiet to build, tension building between.

Then I breathed out steadily and turned aside.

Coward.

The ride shook, propelling us onward, urban gleams streaking the panes as though oblivious.

I adjusted my stance as the transport growled forward, attempting to ignore the man. My sight strayed along the corridor, beyond the jammed forms.

Then I caught sight of another...

Near the rear, nestled in the window nook, perched a young woman I'd swear was unfamiliar. Golden tresses cascaded smoothly down her back, snaring the outer lights' shine. Her stare—azure, sharp, eerily vivid—locked on the view outside, and momentarily, the din faded near her. Her complexion gleamed fair, delicate in a manner alien to this metropolis, this existence.

I blinked.

And she vanished.

The cushion stood bare, the surface mirroring only streaking beams and dampened boards.

I scowled, massaging my lids, then sighed and slumped against the bar. "Yeah... I really gotta stop drinking beer for breakfast."

The transport bucked once more, hauling me into the darkness, and I avoided another peek.

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