Matilda checked both directions before entering the crosswalk. It was strictly ceremonial; citywide autonomous driving systems were so good they could stop blocks of moving vehicles before even one would strike a pedestrian, but her grandfather’s lessons still echoed in her mind. The parkway is not a playground. Keep your head on a swivel.

By age fourteen, she’d accrued many lessons, mostly from these visits to her grandfather in the senior living center located across from her middle school. The visits were nice breaks when she had a free period. Moreover, they counted towards the school-mandated community service hours. It wasn’t just convenient, it was profitable. Students paid a premium to join her for the easy credit.

As Matilda stopped at a streetlight, she spotted her partner running out of the school. “Come on, Eileen! We don’t have forever!”

Eileen held down her floppy hat with one hand as she sprinted over. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ferris wouldn’t shut up!” she said between quick breaths.

Matilda started walking across the parking lot to the lobby without her. Inside, a few tenants watched her from wheelchairs and well-worn couches. Oldies played from hidden speakers. She walked to a large formidable desk and an equally imposing nurse. She’d met Nurse Powell dozens of times and yet the greeting was always the same.

Powell’s gravelly voice cut through an instrumental version Closing Time. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see my grandpa. Mr. Horn?” Matilda replied as Eileen pushed through the entrance. “We both are.”

They signed the guest book and headed down the hall. As they passed the open rooms, Matilda observed the collections of turn of the century antiques like trading card games, CD players and singing plastic fish adorning the walls. She cataloged the ones she thought were valuable and kept a mental list like some kind of superspy. Reaching her grandfather’s room, she knocked on the steel door. “Anyone home?”

“Nobody but me,” said a tenor voice. Mr. Horn sat on the edge of his bed watching something on the holo-screen. Sunspots dotted his face like blotchy brown islands in a rippled sea. He turned and recognized her, his face brightening. “Hey peanut!” he said with arms wide. “Who’s your friend?”

“Eileen Girrard, sir. I’m, uh, a good friend of Matilda’s from school.”

“Lies, you just need the hours,” Horn snickered and waved his hand. “Doesn’t matter. Screw their rules. I’m happy to see you both at any rate. How long can you stay?”

“Only an hour,” Matilda said. “So, what do you need help with today? How’s the computer? Still buried under Spam?”

When he opened the ancient laptop, it sounded as loud and obnoxious as Nurse Powell. “Works fine.”

Eileen pointed at a pop up message on his calendar screen. “What’s Ska-xercise?”

The old gen-Xer frowned. “It’s–pardon my French–bullshit. Some idiot’s idea of a good time for old farts like me. Anything to keep the grim specter of Death off our doorstep so they can keep milking my pension!”

Matilda remembered. According to him, anyone under 21 was an idiot. Anyone older was a sellout. “You know grandpa, this could be fun. Eileen’s never heard that music before. Maybe you can show her how you used to, what, cut a rug?”

“I’m not that old, peanut. Fine. Pass me my porkpie hat and chain wallet. We’re going in style.”

The three of them walked to the multi-purpose room where the event had already started. A loudspeaker no larger than a shoebox belted a caribbean rocksteady beat that filled the room.

“It sounds overblown!” Eileen shouted.

“It’s supposed to! It’s how it used to be played on the island! Come on, let’s dance!” As they each found their own personal space to bounce and sway, Matilda looked at everyone else having a good time. Life could be so easy, once you’d reached the twilight years. But she was here, and yet so far from that dream. She clenched her jaw for a moment before signaling her grandfather. “I forgot something in the room, I’ll be right back.”

Matilda made quick work of pilfering the Pokemon and Magic decks before anyone noticed. As she stuffed them into her backpack, she thought of another of her grandfather’s lessons: Don’t live in the past.

When she returned to the hall, Eileen was marching and fist pumping in place with a giant grin on her face. “What’s this song?” Matilda asked.

“The World is New,” Horn replied.

Matilda could not agree more.