Beneath the night sky, everything was still. The land was covered in a thick darkness, obscuring the world and enveloping it with a peaceful serenity. Street lights flickered dutifully throughout it, however, breaking up the tranquility with their stark brightness and soft, mechanical hum. Beside the town, the ocean sparkled vastly in the moonlight. The shoreline acted as a bridge—a bridge between the unpredictability of life, and the constant peacefulness of the water. The waves crashed onto the coarse sand rhythmically, and the foam fizzled softly, wavelets cusping the shore.
In a dark room, a large window overlooked the sea. A young man gazed thoughtfully out into the water, his eyes marred with bags from many sleepless nights. The window was shut tightly, but the sounds still resonated throughout the room. He closed his eyes, embracing the moonlight dimly illuminating the room. The sea was seductive.
***
In the rays of early sunlight, the house stood silently. Within it, a door creaked as it was pushed ajar, disturbing the particles of dust in the air and creating small swirls that sparkled faintly in the radiance.
A foot peeked out from the door, followed in quick pursuit by a second. A young man leaned against the frame of the door, softly rubbing the fatigue out of his eyes with his right hand. His hair was disheveled, a shade of light brown in the morning light. He walked forwards, venturing into the quiet hallway.
Looking down at the wooden floorboards, Cass sighed inwardly.
'I need more sleep… This is getting out of hand. Has the sea always been so loud?'
He trudged through the hallway, his feet never straying far from the ground. Eventually, he reached the kitchen. Warm rays of light seeped through the windows, lighting the room and warming everything they touched. Cass reached into the cupboard beside the stove, pulling out a tall glass. Filling it with water, he placed his face into his hands, massaging his eyes gently. The day had just begun.
Stepping out into the brisk air, Cass recoiled slightly as the remaining fatigue was forced out of his body by the cold. He pulled his long sleeves over his hands, retreating into the warm confines of his sweatshirt, his boots clinking softly on the stone street, gently making their way towards the austere streetlamp. A newspaper laid strewn on the ground, brazenly spreading itself open to reveal the neat letters inked across its surface.
"Town officials report suicide rates up 19% in past year"
"Palestone welcomes soon-to-be Café after local dollar store goes out of business"
"Mrs. Orison passed away this Sunday afternoon at the tender age of 84…"
Ignoring it, Cass continued forwards unwaveringly. He reached a sharp turn in the street, and watched as people gradually began appearing. An old man, a young woman, children playfully weaving between the legs of passersby. A middle-aged man, and a middle-aged woman… they all blended together, forming a sparse crowd that slowly trickled through.
Unperturbed, he continued his march. Cass's mind wandered as he walked, never entertaining a thought long enough for it to take root in his mind. Eventually, after many long bouts of thinking, he came to a halt, looking up at the stout brick building that stood before him.
He took a deep breath in and sighed.
'It really feels more like a Tuesday than a Thursday… I guess it's not a bad thing, though?'
Bracing himself, he walked inside. The first thing he noticed was the warmth, starkly contrasting the biting cold air… it was a stifling warmth that slowly seeped into your skin, worming its way into your bones, heating you from the inside.
'Is the heating broken again or something? The temperature is always so all over the place in this building.'
Cass scanned the hallway, glancing briefly at the dense crowds that sparsely populated it. Everyone clamored loudly. The warmth allowed him to remember the fatigue the cold expelled from his body. He felt a drowsiness working itself up, deep within him. A yawn lingered on his tongue making his vision blur softly as his eyes watered. Around him, Cass noticed countless other people yawning, many also shifting uncomfortably in the heat. Standing near the entrance was a boy wearing a light blue jumper and a slightly wrinkled pair of khaki pants. His forehead was covered in a thin film of sweat, blond hair sticking slightly to it, but he was still enthusiastically walking around at a brisk pace, holding a small stack of papers to his chest. His voice held the remnants of a smile, but his face no longer displayed the same enthusiasm.
"Hello! My name is Logan. I'm running for school-wide president this year, be sure to vote for me!"
He extended the clutched papers in his hand towards the wave of people entering the building. A few people politely took a flier from him, but a majority only gave him a polite nod and continued walking. He smiled faintly and took refuge in a corner near the doors, counting how many papers he had left. Cass gave him a cursory glance before moving onwards.
After wandering the building, Cass found solace in a secluded hallway in the school. He closed his eyes, letting the drowsiness wash over him in waves.
Dum… Ding…. Dum… Ding…
The jarring sound of the morning bell pulled Cass from his reverie. The heat seeped further into him, making his whole body feel damp. Slowly, people in the quiet hallway began to stir, rising from their temporary peacefulness. In the distance, the sounds of footsteps and chatter loomed. Cass slowly stood up while pressing his hand against the wall. He could faintly hear a buzzing sound in his ears, straying at the edge of his mind.
Uprighting himself, he stretched his back with a faint crackling sound. He picked up the backpack leisurely splayed beside him and set off.
***
Beneath the school, an old room laid. It was a cramped room, dimly lit by a set of fluorescent light bulbs. They flickered, casting deep, yellowed shadows across the ground, with a mechanical hum filling the air. It deeply resonated with everything it graced. On the peeling walls, countless metal pipes laid bare. They interweaved together, creating intricate patterns, sprouting out of the machinery and rooting into the ceiling above. Suddenly, a violent fit of coughing broke the continuity. It was quickly muted by the indifferent machinery, and the room once again returned to its tranquil state.