The atmosphere here was really screwy. It was quiet, for a bowling alley– with, what, only maybe five or six total people in here, four of them in these tacky purple polo uniforms with a chest patch sewn on. Anna could hear everything that the only customer was doing… rented bowling shoes tiptoeing towards the line, wood shivering beneath his feet, a faded red resin ball sliding across the alleyway. Her eyes stayed paranoid of Graham for the time being, moving from wall to wall, not able to settle on anything for long enough to note the details. She was biting her thumbnail fiercely despite having kicked the habit. Even if the bar was unattended right now, and it was too early to drink, the smell of booze was obstinate, marinating every thread of the faded 90’s neon confetti deco carpet, all of these stains visible inside the noisy pattern. Anna was sure she’d smell drunk even if she didn’t drink. A disco ball hung petrified overhead, select few panels painted in the room’s dingy orange light. Right now she felt very small–like she was expected to take up more space than she ever could. It was weird to be surrounded by so much dead air in a place that had so much history, where Anna had once thought if she held her breath and stood on an especially puke-soaked piece of carpet, she might hear the chatter of an idle crowd. Again, the pins splattered, and she couldn’t help but look back towards her friend again.

Over the railing, alone at the clerk’s desk, Graham was parked down on his table, his head bent down to check his fingernails. This second floor club was the safest place here– there was just enough space for a couple tables and an old analog pinball machine, slotted into the corner. It beeped like a set of jingling keys behind Anna, begging her to try and top 10 again, but she shook it off. Instead her hand grasped the railing tightly, checking her wristwatch with a frown. 7:15. She’d shown up early, which was rare for her. Graham had depended on the opposite.

He wasn’t wearing the work uniform like last time– instead now he was wearing a well-fit floral fruit punch blouse with white buttons all the way down, his long black hair now free from the typical Athletics hat. His curls flowed almost down to his shoulders. Anna figured that the product in his hair was probably the same as it was in high school– as she got closer, she could smell that same honey-vanilla Flamant, barely a wisp in the air around him. But Anna had a good nose for chubby boy cologne. Her hand grasped his shoulder, and from her tiptoes, she leaned a little closer, just to see…

“…woah, shit, hi… ” Graham uttered, chuckling softly. “Hey–”

“Huh, smells nice. Your mom buy it for you?”

Graham turned to face her, brushing off his shoulder but offering a restrained smirk nonetheless. “Freakin’ gremlin.”

"No, I mean it.”

“Oh.” He let out a small psh, looking away. “Yeah? She has great taste.”

At that, Anna smiled, tucking her hands into her pockets. “You felt tense.”

“Oh— did I?”

It was actually really strange— the Graham she grew up with was never tense, not before a concert, not before baseball games, not even in an argument, but now he looked visibly shaky. “What’s up?” Eyes wide, she gave him one of those trademark knowing looks, the pupils big and black and deep enough to be lapped up. He scoffed cooly and shrugged those broad shoulders of his.

“Maybe because I’m not stoned?”

“But being stoned makes it worse.” At that, he looked away, seeming to not have a response. “Okay, plead the fifth. Who’d you replace me with?”

“Augh, you missed so many awkward conversations, didn’t you?”

Anna nodded even though it wasn’t awkward to her.

“Okay. Well, we couldn’t find a singer-guitarist, so it’s two people now.”

“Two… people.”

“Yeah. You’re hard to replace. We had to change a lot up.”

“Hm.” She grinned, folding her hands together behind her back. “Well I can’t come back, right?”

“...do you want to?”

Anna didn’t know if he was serious. It was a ridiculous ask, right? Literally not even a couple of hours away from opening a concert with his band, and Graham was asking her to pick up a guitar again? Not knowing if she was better or worse than his bandmates, if she had any ideas, or how good she even was right now, post-emancipation, potentially covered in a thick layer of rust from jail? Even if she hadn’t played a song in years– which she had, but as far as he knew, that was totally not a guarantee, and sticking through that meant he would artistically stagnate for months as she shook off the rust. Lucky for him, though, Anna had been in a jail choir the whole time, strengthening her voice, soloing seculars in packed churches and charity meetings, teacher’s conferences, union orgs… it was nice, having something to hold onto like that through her sentence. Getting to maintain just one skill that was so humanizing to her, a talent that made her valuable to almost anyone. For a group of people who were starving to be respected like human beings, getting to see a crowd applauding was a total buffet of attention, like a family of wolves stumbling upon a frozen elk’s carcass. Music had sustained Anna for so long. On the worst days, she could tell herself that no matter what happened, or what cage she was stuffed in, how many times her throat had been stomped down on, she would hold onto the knowledge that she’d always be musical. That she’d always be able to make herself matter to anyone with a heart.

“Pfft.”

The corners of Graham’s lips pulled slightly, and he mirrored her awkward smirk, his eyes gentler than before. “What?”

But she was a different kind of artist now. If Graham was any other man, he should have been too. Anna could remember, on some late night of summer break, when his relationship was close to becoming the longest she’d ever had, when she was still in that volatile phase, safe enough to be honest, unsure if honesty would scare him away. It was hard at that time to be sure of anything, let alone who she wanted to be. She’d said she wanted to be a rock star. A hockey player. Cult leader. Paramedic. Veterinarian. Really, it was any life worth living, anything that’d eclipse all of her mistakes, something that would distinguish her character to the whole world, her strength, her stubbornness, the fact that she would never settle, never find satisfaction, not really. And Graham was the same way– just more pointed, more aware. He was gonna get famous. Become a sports or a rock star. End up rich, admired for coming as close to his full potential as humanly possible. And Anna used to admire that.

“Everything always changes, but it’s always the same.”

She smirked a little wider, expecting Graham’s expression to change, but he seemed frozen. The moment must have been cut short before he processed it. His eyes went to something in the distance behind Anna, towards the windows, and she followed his gaze sharply, watching the door get wedged open by a pale-purple guitar case.

A guitar strap studded by rhinestones glittered over a tall girl’s shoulder, pinning down a cord of inky-black hair beneath her collarbone. She had to turn all the way around and square her feet to yank hard enough to free the door, her slumped shoulders jerking back violently, but it only took one tug and she staggered back, nearly tipping over in the process. Her movements were of an animal maybe half her size. Each of them were sharp and forceful, and quick, like a small, shaky rodent, her head bouncing up and down between each stride, the strap beating violently against her shoulder. Graham had shot to his feet, like he could make it all the way across the room in order to catch her when she fell, and Anna broke out in a long giggle, not at her, but at him. When she finally glanced back at her she had the guitar case set onto her thighs, skinny arms connected at the wrists and shoulders slumped forward, a shy smile complimenting the blush on her face. The door swung back open, and Elena glided right through it, her eyes affixed on the floor about ten feet ahead, as they always had been. They looked nearly black from this far away. Graham offered a nonchalant wave, just lifting his hand above his head as he leaned back onto the counter. When it dropped his elbow jutted into the side of Anna’s soft underbelly. Totally deserved.

They were coming over. Elena didn’t look so different– she had the same sharp jawline and resting indifferent face, but she looked a lot older than she should’ve, with only a year’s absence. Her eyes looked a lot heavier, when they flitted up at Anna, even as the skin wrinkled around them and she offered the rare restrained smile. “Wow. You’re alive.”

“Yeah?”

“No. I… of course you lived, I mean, I...” She bent her arm, her spidery hand balled into a fist, and held her at finger gunpoint, palm up. “You haven’t aged a day. I thought you’d be… messed up, you know? At least have bags under your eyes.”

Anna looked at Graham to see his reaction, and he was squinting at her, seeming to discern it for herself. Being the only one who didn’t get to cock her head a little and check for herself, she just decided to try and pout.

“Vouch.”Graham scoffed and smiled, leading her gaze back to Elena, who had gone from a strained smile to a stoic-half smirk.

“That’s not real.”

“I mean, believe what you want.” Elena shrugged a shoulder. “I’m gonna go warm up. Trin?”

God, even her name was small. She tilted her head down at Elena, or at least her afterimage, since she was already out a few paces. Graham hadn’t moved except for his arm.

“You thrift this?”

His fingertips touched down lightly on her shoulder, testing the material of Anna’s hoodie. He was right– right after she’d cashed out her prison check, and gotten into the city, she needed to fill her closet on the cheap. Jail didn’t pay well. So she found a thrift in a populated part of the lower floor and basically grabbed whatever she could. Anna hadn’t even really looked at the design on the front, but it looked like an album cover– a bright red square, and the silhouette of a rat, turning through the air over the jaws of a wolf.

“Obviously, yeah.” Anna pinched the bottom and pulled it out. It was a smidge too big for her, but that was okay, it was a hoodie. She had never had the chance to care too much about her appearance anyways.

“It’s nice. Wonder what that album is.” Graham turned to face her squarely, having to take a long step back. “We should listen to it. After this.”

Only now did Anna lift her head, finding Graham’s smile again. Her gaze strayed away… to the new girl, who was over towards the bar now, asking the bartender for something. That guitar case was very purple. White-backed stickers decorated its face, although only in sparse spots, the corners, a couple in the center, decidedly not enough to fully decorate the thing. Her clothes were contrastingly dark– maybe to try and match Elena?

“Anna?”

“Y–yeah, yeah! That’d be great.”

She mustered a smile and fought to meet Graham’s eye, feeling remarkably small once again. He chuckled at her turn of phrase.

“Okay. I’ll find you after the show. Call me, okay?”