Prelude - Hedgehog's Dilemma

Ives set down the pen and placed the card by the table’s edge, directly in view of the doorway, where it would be noticed.

He picked up his bag, purposefully avoiding looking back, and slipped out of the apartment. He took care to close the door without making a noise. The neighbours had always been a pain about that. It wouldn't be fair to suffer through the third lecture of the week about thin walls and noise pollution on top of his note. That note on the table would do enough damage as it was.

Despite living on the twelfth level, he had to avoid the lifts. She—Mica—always took them up to their apartment. She was due to be homeany moment. If he ran into her as she stepped out into the hall, or if he ran into her in the lobby as he was about to leave, then the doubts that lingered would get the better of him.

He lit a cigarette. It cast a faint glow as he inhaled. It barely made a difference in the darkness of the stairwell that led down toward the courtyard exit at the back of the residential complex. Each step down made the durasteel creak, breaking up the silence.

A few months back he’d met Mica at a party one evening. They’d been introduced by a mutual friend. She'd been kind enough to laugh at one of his jokes, despite how terrible it had been, and he’d paid for their drinks. The party turned into a coffee date, turned into a movie night, and soon after they saw each other regularly. They'd been happy together. Happy enough.

Ives took another drag of the cigarette. The smoke radiated warmth within his chest, familiar and reassuring. His lungs were shot, but he couldn’t give this up. They’d fought about it once or twice. He exhaled, one smooth breath.

They hadn’t been happy. Not really, not if he was honest with himself. Sure they'd smiled together, and their lives had been brighter with the other in it. But deep down, he had felt a break that permeated every interaction. The gravity pulling them together hadn’t been love. No, they’d both simply been scared of the alternative. It had been that fear of being alone which had kept them together. They’d both run from it, that they’d found each other along the way had been sheer circumstance, really.

His footsteps echoed in the stairwell. No one used this one anymore. The steps had rusted over. The paint on the walls peeled off in sections. He only had a couple more levels to go.

They'd planned on a shared vacation. Two weeks on Telos's third-best beach resort. He'd been excited about it, at first. But the closer the day of their departure got, the more apparent that fundamental flaw between them became. They’d talk but never listen, not really. They’d vent, but could offer little more than a tired yeah as consolation. With each day that gulf between them became more apparent, and even though he’d moved in with her, the distance between them had not once changed.

They were supposed to leave tomorrow. She'd packed her coffers this morning. He was supposed to after his shift.

He'd had a sudden bout of anxiety upon placing the last of his shirts into the bag. Not quite a panic attack, he’d had those before, but enough to nearly throw up.

Ives stepped off the final few steps, shouldering open the back exit out of the residential complex into the courtyards. The outside air was crisp. A fresh snow had fallen. He tugged his collar higher, taking in the crunch of his boots in the snow as he walked.

The vacation could still be cancelled. It wouldn't be too difficult to find a buyer for their apartment either, with how close it was to the city. She had family and friends—more than he had—who would support her through this. In a week or two she'll likely have forgotten all about it. There wouldn't be much to remember, anyways.

This was for the best. For both their sakes.

He tossed the cigarette bud into the snow, burying his hands in the pockets of his jacket. His shift in the mines would be starting again soon. He’d be gone for a week, maybe more. If he was lucky, he’d never return here at all.