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墨書 Inktalez
The night air carried a slight chill, and the city's neon lights flickered softly as Carter and Keisha walked side by side out of the cinema. Neither of them spoke, yet the atmosphere was far from awkward.
The conversation they had just shared lingered in their minds; there was no need for more words, as a subtle understanding had already formed between them.
Carter's hands were tucked into his pockets, his steps steady and slow, while Keisha kept her head slightly bowed, her steps light as she occasionally kicked at small stones on the ground, as if trying to mask some indescribable emotion.
The street was quiet and spacious, but between them hung a faintly ambiguous tension.
As they reached the end of the alley, Keisha suddenly stopped and turned to face Carter, a gentle smile gracing her lips.
"Um... I have to work tomorrow, so I should head home now," she said softly.
Her voice was light, tinged with a hint of reluctance, yet it carried a natural warmth, as if she were concluding a lovely evening rather than saying goodbye.
Carter nodded thoughtfully and then almost instinctively asked, "Do you want me to walk you home?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, he noticed Keisha's momentary surprise; a faint blush crept onto her cheeks. It seemed she hadn't expected him to say that. Her gaze flickered for a moment before she gently shook her head.
"No, it's fine. My place is nearby; I can walk there in just a few steps."
Her tone held a hint of shyness but also a playful edge, as if she were trying to hide her racing heart.
However, she didn't refuse too directly. Instead, she slightly lifted the corners of her mouth and added softly, "But next time... we can plan to watch another movie together."
Carter paused for a moment, then felt an involuntary smile spread across his face, revealing a warm expression.
"Sure, let's meet up next time."
Keisha nodded, waved her hand, and then turned to walk into the alley, her steps light and seemingly filled with a little excitement.
Carter stood in place, watching her figure gradually disappear under the dim streetlight. He took a deep breath, feeling that this night was a bit more special than he had anticipated.
When Carter returned home, he kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the sofa. Just as he was about to zone out, his phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated.
He pulled it out to see "Marco" displayed on the screen.
Carter frowned for a moment, contemplated for a second, and then pressed the answer button.
"Hello," he said, his tone neither warm nor particularly cold.
On the other end of the line, Marco's voice came through, lazy yet tinged with impatience. "Finally picked up! What’s going on with you lately? You haven’t been to the bar; Old Jack is driving me crazy."
Carter chuckled lightly, leaning back on the sofa. "I've been busy with other things."
"Busy with other things?" Marco paused for a moment, then his tone shifted to one of suspicion. "You’re not... actually helping Rain with her campaign, are you?"
Carter raised an eyebrow and admitted without hesitation, "Yeah."
There was suddenly silence on the other end of the line.
Marco didn’t respond right away; his silence felt less like shock and more like he was pondering something.
After a few seconds, he finally spoke softly, "Ha, I knew it..."
"What's wrong? Is there an issue?" Carter's tone was calm yet challenging, as if waiting for the other to fire back.
Surprisingly, Marco didn't say much more; he simply sighed, his tone sounding more resigned than accusatory. "I just hope... you don't think everything will turn out perfectly."
Carter frowned slightly and fell silent for a moment.
Marco continued, his voice low. "I know why you're doing this, Carter, but you should understand that the world can't be changed just by speeches, especially not by someone like Rain..."
"Someone like Rain?" Carter scoffed. "What kind of person is he? At least he's more proactive than those politicians who just sit back counting their money while ignoring the suffering of the people."
Marco didn't argue; he merely replied, "Maybe."
"But Carter, this is your choice."
His tone was calm, devoid of criticism or approval, like an observer quietly watching someone move toward an uncertain future.
"Just remember, when the day comes that you realize reality isn't what you thought it would be... we're still here," Marco said finally. "Don't let yourself get too deep into this, brother."
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before the sound of the call disconnecting echoed through.
Carter set down his phone and stared at the screen displaying the end call message, his brow still furrowed.
Marco's words lingered in his mind for a while.
But in the end, he merely scoffed, shook his head, tossed his phone onto the table, leaned back on the sofa, and closed his eyes.
Marco's words had reached Carter.
Yet he had no intention of backing down.
Carter casually threw his phone on the table and walked toward the balcony. He pushed open the slightly stuck glass door, and a cool night breeze rushed in to greet him.
He leaned against the iron railing of the balcony, gripping it tightly enough that his knuckles turned white, his gaze fixed on the city he knew all too well.
Everything was still as filthy and chaotic as ever, unchanged.
Under the dim light of a streetlamp at the corner, a few addicts huddled together, shivering as they exchanged small bags in their hands, their shadows flickering on the wall like phantoms.
Vehicles sped by erratically, horns blaring and tires screeching in a cacophony. Some drivers frantically urged the cars ahead to move faster, while others gestured rudely with their hands, as if anger was the only language this city understood.
At a red light, a streetwalker in a short skirt leaned against a lamppost, boredly lighting a cigarette. The high heels on her feet tapped impatiently against the ground. Occasionally, when a man passed by, she would lazily throw him a smile, but her eyes remained devoid of emotion, as if she were engaged in a mechanical transaction.
These scenes had always filled Carter with rage in the past.
He had once felt disgusted and repulsed by it all, even harboring an impulse to tear the entire city apart. He hated the corruption here, despised its incompetence, and loathed society's tolerance for depravity and neglect of the weak.
But today, that anger… seemed less intense.
He still saw the city's filth; he still knew it hadn't gotten any better. Yet somehow, his perspective had shifted without him realizing it.
In the past, he would only curse, believing that everything was a quagmire, an abyss of despair beyond redemption, and that no one could change it.
But now, he began to ponder that perhaps the problem was not whether these things were "unchangeable," but rather that no one had truly attempted to change them.
He looked down at his hands; the calluses on his palms were still evident, marks left by the battlefield, brands of society's indifference.
Yet now, his hands no longer merely held a gun; they grasped a deeper possibility.
He recalled today's campaign event, remembered Rain's powerful words, and thought of those who raised their banners with hope in their hearts. In their eyes shone a light he had never seen before.
This made him question himself—
Perhaps I really can do something?
The thought furrowed his brow, but this time he did not shake his head or scoff. Instead, he took a slow breath and exhaled gently.
The air was still thick with the smell of exhaust fumes and cheap cigarettes; the city remained dilapidated, depraved, and chaotic.
But Carter knew that he was no longer the same Carter.
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