Marie was a pragmatic person who had only ever really possessed two truly abstract nostalgic loves, that of fall and of the early morning hours in the city. Both exuded the same effect of setting her mind at least in a way that very little else could. A few of her older Pilates friends referred to the feeling as Zen. A concept, like most religious ones she had only vague paid attention to as it flirted in and out of the public consciousness. Regardless after hearing their description she can to concede it was at least in part accurate. The terminology aside the effect doubled blissfully when the two occurred in tandem.
As such when she had awoken to find the first cool twinge of fall had blanketed the city beneath platinum clouds a childlike joy had filled her veins. The thought of a perfectly composed latte from the cafe down the street quickly fermented into what would be the highlight of her week. Hurriedly she had dressed, wrapping a light scarf around her neck she made her way out from the third story walk up which had served as her home since she had finished college two years prior. Eager she bound down the stairs, past the bicycle her neighbor had perpetually chained to the wall into the street.
The crisp air filled her lungs as she hulled a deep breath. The scent of the bay had drifted up the hill on the breeze. The streets were still empty possessing that intensely serene quality all cities regardless of geography take on in those sleepy early hours of the morning. A few early risers passed her on the street, their footfalls ricocheting off the cobblestone streets in gentle unison.
“This is a perfect day.” Marie thought as she rounded the corner to the cafe, its hunter green awning sitting in contrast to the worn red brick facade and yellow letting which covered the heavy plate glass window. Her hand outstretched for the brass pull she froze her eyes fixed on the unlit space beyond as she recalled in perfect clarity the words on the small piece of paper tapped just out of view. “Closed on Monday Due to the Holiday.”
With that realization Marie’s head rolled back to the sky and a string of expletives and insults alike flowed from her mouth with such veracity that one would have thought the ten seconds for which she spoken had been ten minutes. Spinning on her heal she turned and began to march down the street in search of some other, surely lesser, substitute.
Marie hated Mondays and inconveniences, nor had she ever been very good at maintaining a state of zen.
Author’s Note: Two Days Down 363 to go. Also the picture was taken in Boston on a similarly fall day.
The Flask/Pen 