DUSTWORLD

LIGHT FILTERS DIMLY from a single window half blocked by the crossposts of a raw lumber loft as a sheer curtain dances in the current of a box fan sucking air into the cave-like single room apartment. An array of instruments and musical equipment line a desk underneath the loft. The kitchen is a small burner atop a mini fridge in the corner beside a flimsy door leading to a cramped bathroom. An old velvet couch takes most of the remaining floor space.

          A key is inserted into the metal door. One by one, the knobs on the numerous locks rotate, the door opens inward, spilling light from the hallway. Cosmo steps in and hastily turns on a few lamps before Eve steps in with the care of a new guest, camera hanging from her shoulder like a purse.

          “Come on in. Welcome to my humble abode.”

          Eve takes in the room, clearly the residence of an artist, dense with stuff, yet well kept. “You built all this?”

          “What, the loft? Yeah. I made everything in here. Except you know, the obvious stuff.”

          “Hm. Pretty handy.” She pokes around his desk. “You've got quite the toy collection. Do anything useful in here?”

          “Barely,” he deadpans.

          She spots a glass orb on the desk, containing a single triangular dot poking out of an otherwise flat surface of sand. “You know if I was locked in here all day I’d probably spend most of it sitting with this thing, like...” 

          She picks up the snowglobe and peers into the glass as the sand swirls, revealing a row of tiny Egyptian-esque statues guarding a miniature pyramid with a miniscule staircase leading to the tip, before settling back to the bottom, reburying everything.

          “I love these things.” Eve puts the snowglobe back on the desk, spotting another curiosity. “What’s this?”

          “You never seen a Gameboy?”

          Eve is turned off. “Don’t call me boy.” 

          “No… it’s called a Gameboy. You play games on it. Whatever. It’s a paper weight anyway. Doesn’t work anymore.”

          “Too bad. What about this?”

          She points at a vintage 80s keyboard synth. Cosmo flips a power strip. LEDs around the desk blink on. He plays a weird pitch bend sound on the keys.

          “Cool.”

          “Wanna try?” he offers.

          “No. I don’t like using my hands.”

          “You what?”

          “I’m clumsy ok? I just don’t like it.”

          “It’s not gonna bite you…”

          “Seriously. I just don’t—”

          She glares at Cosmo a moment before rolling her eyes and doing a careless tap-tap on the keys, then folding her arms.

          “Ok there.” She glances around irritated.

          “I mean… pretty cool, right?”

          “Ok.”

          They marinate in an uncomfortable silence. Cosmo rubs his palms on his lap. 

          “You want something to drink?”

          “Yeah aren’t you like a wino?”

          He gives her a look. “I’m not a wino.”

          “I’m sorry, I don’t mean you’re— um... Sure.”

          He steps to a cabinet and retrieves two Dixie cups and a magnum bottle of red. “Hope you don't mind it's already opened. It’s not like, old. Oh and I only got plastic cups.” She gives an agreeable shrug. 

          He fills a cup for her. She takes a good sip as Cosmo pours his own. He raises his cup for a toast, she clicks her plastic rim with his and sips again, awkwardly.

          “And what the hell is all this?” she demands, pointing at a series of flat rectangular modules, covered in switches, buttons and dangling cables. 

          “That's a modular synth.”

          “A macho your what?”

          Cosmo chuckles and powers on the unit. Small lights on the console blink to life. He flips a few switches and patches a couple cables. A rhythmic pulse of electronic tones begins looping. 

          Eve is mesmerized. “That’s amazing.”

          “Isn’t it cool?”

          “Is that a song?”

          “What this? I mean not really. Not yet anyway.”

          “You should make it one.”

          “You think?” Cosmo mindlessly hits a few notes on the keyboard, noodling a couple licks. He starts a beat on the drum machine, backbeat over kick, simple but huge. He lays down a keyboard riff and loops it. He picks up the bass and lays down a line, checking the microphone with a well placed "hey" on the downbeat.

          Eve watches as Cosmo closes his eyes and flows.

 

Cosmo is in his spot on the Venice boardwalk under the tall palm. Eve is camped out on a nearby bench with a notebook in her lap, pen in hand, glancing up at Cosmo every so often with a wry smile, her chocolate eyes glimmering in the sun.

          Homeless Guy comes up and drops a bill in Cosmo’s box, then grooves on down the boardwalk. Eve smiles as she catches the moment in her sketch, a detailed scene of the entire boardwalk, rendered in ballpoint pen.

 

In Cosmo’s studio, Eve and Cosmo are recording vocals under the loft. They each have their own headphones as they share one mic. She sings one part of the chorus while Cosmo does the other line, the electricity between them evident as they harmonize sweetly.

          Later, Cosmo and Eve are making out like there’s no tomorrow. They bump their elbows on the walls of the cramped bathroom in the rush to get their clothes off. Still connected at the mouth, they step into the shower. Steam fills the room.

 

An abandoned church in the middle of a forest. Cosmo admires Eve from across the chapel. Her hair in an updo, she stands in a stream of light as she frames a photograph of a stained glass window being devoured by tree roots.

          Cosmo climbs up crumbling stairs to the altar. He reaches his hand to Eve. She takes it and joins him. He gets on one knee and takes an imaginary box out of his pocket, miming a ring. She pantomimes emotional fluster, putting the invisible diamond on her finger. She slips an imaginary wedding band onto his finger. They gaze into each other's eyes, then kiss long and deeply.

          Cosmo and Eve turn to the nonexistent congregation, raising their arms in jubilant celebration of their union. They stroll like newlyweds down the aisle, dodging imaginary rice as they exit the abandoned church, grinning like fools, running headlong into the woods outside the church. 

          Eve races exuberantly through the trees. She glances back. Cosmo is right behind her, still holding her hand. The forest opens into a lush open meadow near a sports arena. 

          Cosmo and Eve throw themselves to the grass. Eve lets her hair out, brown eyes ablaze, luscious locks falling around her shoulders, backlit by late afternoon sun. The arena looms in the distance as they make love in the green grass behind the stadium.