Neon Entanglements II

She said it was too early to go home.

The words hung in the static-charged air between us, fractalized in the reflections of the rain-slicked skyline. Her eyes held the burn of corrupted memories, rerouted paths, lost packets of something that might have once been regret.

I watched the city pulse behind her, the grid shifting in slow drifts of ultraviolet and noise. The club’s subsonic rhythms still echoed in my bones, but out here, in the fractured silence of the after-hours, it felt like we were standing at the edge of something vast — something neither of us wanted to name.

“We could walk,” I said, knowing we wouldn’t.

She smirked, a barely-there flicker of teeth and shadow, and turned back toward the electric sprawl. The night stretched ahead of us like an unfinished sequence, waiting for someone to press execute.