Ray rose from his bed and walked across the room to the window. Miles of sharp-edged, boxy metal apartments surrounded his own. The dull design was in everything, cold floors and brutalist influence in every building he could see. It depressed him. He’d been told that decades ago, they stopped making buildings unique or attractive. They now focused on cost efficiency and geometric shapes, leaving behind aesthetics, beauty. Leaving the window, Ray stepped into the living area.

“Morning, Ray,” his wife said.

“Morning”.

Ray’s marriage at this point was merely a dry connection. The sole link now was providing for the other.

“Wear your mask this morning, the smog is covering the city.”

It was a foggy morning and hard to see beyond a block or two. Ray came to the locally run market a few blocks from his unit. His wife, Kara, had tasked him with getting fruit for the night’s meal. But he wasn’t paying attention to the food. It seemed to him that the citizens accepted the systematic cost cutting in most modern cities. All he saw were the people, happy to be there and looking satisfied with society. He felt separated from the other citizens by his view. The structure of their housing bored, and left Ray wishing for a more artistic world.

“What is it you’re looking for?” a frail, old woman offered.

“Just the two red ones, there,” Ray replied.

Ray’s head swung around suddenly at the sound of a gust of smoke billowing from a drain on the opposite side of the alley. His gaze followed the cloud as it rose to the tops of the apartments. The smoke passed by metal-barred windows and bright flood lights as it joined the mass of smog in the gray sky.

“This place is terribly grim, isn’t it,” the woman said.

“The buildings, I mean.”

Ray was taken back by this. He couldn’t help but be surprised by her apt knowingness. 

“I’ve never looked at this city with pride,” he agreed. He took an extended pause to consider this connection.

“I better get back to my wife, she’ll be worried.” Ray started back up the alley on his way-

“I’ve seen this place, long ago. It enchanted me.” The woman stopped him again.

He stopped walking for a moment. His mind was going in every direction. Every thought about what that could have looked like or what she felt entered his mind.

“Yes, it was amazing. Come here and listen,” she said.

Her name was Monique. She wore a bandana to cover her sprawling hair. The age of her tattered clothes seemed to match that of the wrinkles on her face. Her words touched Ray with a glimpse of the past. She told him her memories of architectural achievement and technique. Through her stories, he pictured Corinthian columns, angles and archways. The idea of building cities with real passion felt romantic. Making his way home, Ray imagined the past all around him. Stepping over steaming sewer grates, he thought of sidewalks sprouting with grass. Watching his hunched reflection beside him on a glass wall, he imagined a wooden house with flowers hung.

At dinner, Ray’s mind was anywhere but his food or Kara. The sliced fruits brought him back to the market, to Monique.

“You’ve barely touched it.” She said, disappointedly.

“I’m sorry, Kara, I’m just not very hungry.”

Once they finished clearing the dishes, Ray headed to their room. He found himself again, at the window. The sun had set not long ago, and darkness swept its curtain down onto the city. Into the night, Ray kept himself up playing Monique’s stories back in his head, imagining scenic views and vibrant color. At one point, his brain narrowed onto one thing she said. “This city in particular has gone bad. I do know that many places nearby haven’t been changed much. For example, I lived in a small town just south of here. I bet my old village hasn’t been built up.”

Just south of here. Just south of here. Ray repeated this to himself on and on and through the night. Suddenly, he rose from bed and walked out into the main area. The unit was still pitch dark as he felt his way to the door. He began with a tip-toe to exit so as to not wake Kara. This tip-toe evolved into a slow walk down the stairs to the street. Once he hit the street, his walk turned into a run. A run that would keep on going beyond the city limits. Once Ray made it past the apartments, he was vaulted into a sprint, tearing down the long, windy road. Within a few minutes, he entered the threshold of the tree-line. Jumping on rocks and stumbling into sticks. Step after step, leap after leap he got the first glimpse of sun. The sun creeped up above the horizon, slowly climbing the trees ahead. As the rays of light began to illuminate the forest floor, that’s when he made it to a clearing, and saw it.

It. It stopped Ray right in his tracks and forced him to stare. The sun, high in the sky now, lit up the scene before him like a canvas brushed with bright acrylics and dazzling color. A tall structure, to his right, rose up from the ground and up above the trees. Another, to his left was wide and painted with the orange hue of the sunrise. All round him were elegant pieces where ergonomic design gave way for artistic curves and crafted roofs. The scene was panoramic, and forced his eye to each fine detail, one after the other. The patterns and technique brought him joy as he traced the lines all around with his eyes. It enchanted her. It is enchanting!

At the top of the high building, Ray gazed across the ancient town. He was able to see far above the trees and all over the landscape. He was taken over by the beauty. Turning around, miles in the distance, he noticed a cloud. A mass of smog, covering a dull, suffering city.