To say it had been a rough day was an understatement.Â
But it wasnât the seemingly undersaturated landscape of New York City, the lack of fresh air despite all the wind, or the endlessly high canyons of glassy surfaced buildings that had brought so much hopelessness into this day. Nor were it the lack of healthy trees, friendly faces and silence. In a way, Anthony had expected everything to be exactly like that. No, what made Anthonyâs mind feel heavy and clouded, was the idea that perhaps Purple had been wrong.
Perhaps he had lied. Perhaps his truth was no longer up-to-date. Perhaps leaving him behind and travelling all across the country from suffering heat in Death Valley to the metaphorical cold of New York had been nothing but a big, fat mistake. It had been three days, and the longer Anthony searched, the smaller became the hope.Â
The only thing that kept this hope alive anyway, was the knowledge that New York City was huge. Anthony would just have to find a job and a place to stay, and with a bit of patience and persistence, things would perhaps finally work out. It was with this thought in mind that he went into all coffeeshops and bars and restaurants he came across, asking for a position, pretending the rejections were meant to be.
By the time he entered the Pixie Lounge, he was already sure this rough day would soon turn into a rough week.