By Kiersten Gonzalez
“How’s your drink, Vivian?” he asks—The Date whose name I can’t remember—as he adjusts his faded gray sweater for the sixth time. His question blends seamlessly with the ones before it. What’s your favorite season? Are you a morning person or a night person? Any siblings? Are you always this quiet? How did your last relationship end?
“He’s such a bore,” Ludwig says, sitting beside The Date at the bar. If it weren’t for their vastly different outfits, they would both look nearly thirty. Ludwig’s wearing the same outfit he has on every day: a dark jacket with long tails at the back, a red silk vest, and matching neck scarf with gold thread accents. Fortunately, he’s removed his top hat since we’re inside, otherwise he’d look especially ridiculous. He’s a relic from another time.
But only I can see him.
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