He stared at the sun. He wasn't ussually someone who put a lot of stock in weather patterns or climactic conditions. He would love to say he danced in the rain and watched thunder storms or that he could udebtuft the constellations on site from his years of star gazing but all of those would be lies. He normally vaugly aknowledged them in the way that everyone vaugly aknowledges sun rises and sun sets. This one was special. It was nearly ten and the were off on a grocery run but the sun held high in the sky still. IT clicked then, it was solstice. The longest day of the year. Not only was this day passing unremarked but every long long previous to that. He had barely noticed the days stretching onward longer and longer and now they were crawling back the other way. From here on every day would get shorter and shorter until night would come at five o'clock and the snows covered everything. It was nearing the end of June and he was letting another summer slip by unremarked. He filled his days as much as he could. With a job that gave him the freedom to do things and with friends that made him smile but he spent most of his time breaking rocks and hauling sod. Every day ticked away the weeks till payday. Every payday ticked away the months till fall would come. Every fall brought him closer to death. Everything changed, everything moved forward. life was moving forward and forward and there was nothing to be done to stop it. Soon He'd be at work, in Banff, in San Fran. Soon he'd be at the grocery store, soon he'd be home, soon he'd be asleep in front of a Spaghetti western, soon he'd be at work. Soon it'd all begin again.
"You want a smoke?" Murry said.
"Always" he chimed.
He lit the thing and smoked it as best he could. The windows were rolled down and the driving wind of a 70 kilometer and hour Acura he burning through his cigerrette faster then he could smoke it. He had to cup his hand around the end of his smoke to keep the thing lit but it made his hand glow orange as the sun cast it's own orange glow over the whole evening. He inhaled deeply and soundly from the smoke while he could and let the spiky stomach churning nicotine wash over him.
"C'est la vie." He whispered.
"You want a smoke?" Murry said.
"Always" he chimed.
He lit the thing and smoked it as best he could. The windows were rolled down and the driving wind of a 70 kilometer and hour Acura he burning through his cigerrette faster then he could smoke it. He had to cup his hand around the end of his smoke to keep the thing lit but it made his hand glow orange as the sun cast it's own orange glow over the whole evening. He inhaled deeply and soundly from the smoke while he could and let the spiky stomach churning nicotine wash over him.
"C'est la vie." He whispered.
