Last time I saw him, he had his car drop me off in an alley, dimly lit by the LED strip in the road. As it sped away, I saw him standing by the wall, face hidden by his coat’s cowl. His glasses glinted in the pale light.
“You’re sure you weren’t followed?” he asked.
“I did just like you told me,” I said.
He nodded, then pointed to a door in the wall. The indicator on the lock went green. “Welcome to wonderland,” he said. Light bloomed into the alleyway as he opened it.
I stepped into another world.
It was like walking through the metropolis of the fireflies. We strolled down tunnels of lights, walked through globes of lights, whole landscapes of lights pulsing in gentle colors. Every tree and rock glowed.
He laughed at me, because I was walking around with my mouth open like a child.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“Nabana No Sato park,” he said. “Every winter they suspend ten million LEDs here.”
“Where is everyone?” I asked him. “Is it always this deserted?”
He laughed again. “Haven’t you heard? There’s been a bomb threat,” he said. “It’s all over the news.” He took me by the shoulders.
He leant in and kissed me, lips unexpectedly hot in the winter air. All the lights in the tunnel strobed red and pulsed away from us.
By the time the police arrived, he’d vanished again. I was sitting on a bench, smiling in the cold.
Image via cubebreaker.