The first place Brad visited was Club 295 which was his usual hang out; he had seen these girls and had slept with most of them. Brad let out a heavy sigh as he turned around and walked back out to the street feeling let down. For some reason, while looking around the club, he had felt an unknown expectation in the back of his mind as though he were looking for someone specific but had no idea who. All he did know, was that she wasn’t here.
Stepping out into the cool night air was refreshing and inviting. Brad felt the energy rising in him and threw his hand up to hail a cab that he would have take him to Element, a rooftop bar a few blocks away. It was a little better there; some new faces but still the same types of women that Brad was so tired of; tall, skinny, blonde or brunette. He knew he was being picky when he shouldn’t be, but he was also feeling that undeniable desire in the back of his mind; the same feeling he had in 295.
Something was telling him to keep looking, to keep searching for someone he couldn’t even describe. After downing the single malt he had ordered when he first walked in, Brad shoved his hands deeply into his pockets and decided he would roll the dice and go some place he had never been to.
Brad left Element on foot, deciding to head towards the eastern side of the city which he knew was host to a few new clubs that were just opening and which he hadn’t had the chance to check out yet. As he rounded the northeastern corner of the block, Brad decided he would take a short cut by way of a more northern route. As he walked on he became more and more distracted by the sights and sounds that slowly began to surround him. Walking past an alley he noticed a small group of men with thick mustaches and beards, wearing long flowing robes and red and white checkered headdresses. Most of the men were crouched low to the ground and speaking quietly around a trashcan full of burning refuse. A few others stood nearby with a watchful eye as though they were look outs.
As he walked on Brad began to smell a medley of mint, garlic, cumin, saffron and sumac wafting from a local street vendor selling strange looking foods. A small hand painted sign with swirling characters Brad couldn’t recognize hung above the stall and the short fat man who ran it called out to him, “Fresh Kibbeh, fresh Shawarma!”. Brad smiled uneasily and crossed the street while strange and beautiful music slowly crept into his ears like a thousand stringed instruments rising to a crescendo. Steadily, a dull rhythmic chanting, low and guttural, began to fill his head and Brad’s eyes began to swim with tears as the strong smells of countless herbs and spices continually swirled up his nose. The eerie music grew louder and louder, compounding his feeling of being overwhelmed and swarming his senses like a plague of locusts.
Suddenly Brad grabbed his head with both hands as he felt a powerful urge to look down at his feet. There was nothing he could do about it. As hard as he thought about the mysterious foreign men and the sweet scents swirling around in his head, and no matter how badly he wanted to clear his mind of the deafening music and focus, he could only look down. He was locked in this state, observing the sidewalk under his feet with each seemingly involuntary step he took. In a moment he knew why, the sidewalk had grown less familiar. Instead of cement he saw a blackish red marble which seemed to be alive under his feet, moving like dark clouds below a thin sheet of glass. “This is too much. I must be drunk.” Brad reasoned with himself as he continued to walk on, mystified as to how he became inebriated after one scotch.
Occasionally Brad would think about looking around to check for street signs and get his bearings but as the thoughts would come to his mind they were quickly lost in the symphony of sounds and smells that had invaded his senses. Finally and suddenly, after what seemed like hours, the music died and the smells drifted away. The will to look around returned and overtook his curious stare downward. Brad broke from his trance, looking up from his feet for the first time since lowering his gaze and there in front of him stood a building he had never seen before. A tall blackish-red building that Brad guessed was about 20 stories high. It was shaped like a broken shard of obsidian and looked as though it were growing straight out of the ground instead of being built on top of it. As he walked closer Brad realized why the thought of obsidian came to mind. “It’s completely made of glass.” Brad said slowly. “Black glass…Like the sidewalk.”
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