A story of a morning

Jimmie had a bad morning. It was his first real holiday in a year, but the morning had started really badly. He felt awful, because of some girlstuff, and he had had issues with coping with something at work. Besides, he was all broke.

Sun was almost shining outside, trying to pry some light behind clouds in steep angle through Jimmies houses seaside windows. Jimmie had a tasteless cup of coffee, before heading outside. He had 5 dollars in his pocket.

He went to his car.

"I think I left sum munny in the car..."

There was no "munny". Fuck, he thought. Sun shone, brightly illuminating everything on the beach, brown-green grasses protrudging from the ground by the side of the bicycle-road flanking the seaside houses. It was sunday. It had rained a little at night. Sand was humid under his bare feet.

He headed towards the nearby grocery. He would be spending the rest of his munny in a beer and a bag o' potato chips.

But the store was closed. It was a national holiday.

Fuck, thought Jimmie.

Fuckity fucking fuck. It was like watching a bad movie, life felt like that. Like writing this right now. Feels like you don't have a clue, what is going to happen next, and you don't even care, cuz it's going to suck anyways.

Seagulls shrieked in choir of two. Jimmie headed towards the beach.

There was noone in sight. Gulls shrieked and hovered between earth and sky. A white convertible rolled past Jimmie, it's driver with sunglasses hanging his hand outside the car. Jimmie watched it go. Away.

He sat beside the road, watched gulls hovering somewhere afar, screaming something.

"Heya there stranger" someone greeted.

"Holy shites!" Jimmie yelled, startled.

"Whoa whoa, no need to be scared pally. Just sayng hullo." Smiling fellow he was, with his big mouth, and a guy, tall, caucasian, brown haired and brown eyed stranger, wearing a casual dark blue collar t-shirt half tugged inside his jeans, and sandals he had on his feet. He also had a old-fashion felt cap. He sat beside Jimmie.

Jimmie grumbled sumthing, looking away afar to the sea. Slow breeze blew from the sea, bringing salty, tangy flavor to words and feelings.

"So... Wussup?" the guy asked.

"Nuffin' much". Jimmie told the guy about his past week. He had fucked up with a girl, had had sex with her and then she had said, that she doubts her feelings for him. The capguy listened carefully, sometimes asking to specify sumfin. It seemed, that he had nuffin' else to do, than listen to strangers.

So, what then?

Jimmie looked the feltcapguys eyes. The guy said: "This is the happiest day of your life. How come you look like somebody just stopped living?"

Jimmie turned to look to the sea, not really watching anything. That was a moment of peace, when nothing didn't make and didn't have to make sense. He blinked, said: "Yes, how come?"

Jimmie turned back to the guy. The guy smiled, not only with his mouth, but with his eyes, wich were wrinkled with the knowing, mile wide smile.