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    Summary

    “Tell me more about this... this Golden Hour, as you called it,” Ratio spoke, his voice low and quiet, and still troubled by something.

    “Nothing much to say, Doctor,” Aventurine drawled as they walked down roads with barely functioning unicyclers rushing towards them, but never quite colliding, always swerving before anything bad could happen. Like a stroke of sheer, dumb luck, given what little regard Aventurine placed for the pedestrian crossings and sidewalks available to them. His steps were sure, clacking noisily on the concrete in contrast to Ratio’s steady strides.

    He gestured lazily at the surroundings and shrugged, “It’s a dream where anything can happen. Anything I want comes true.”

    “Anything?”

    “Anything,” Aventurine confirmed with a smirk, “But not everything, my friend.”

     

    (A gambler dreams. A doctor is waiting for him to wake up.)

    Language:
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