Daily life in pastel

"Come to think of it: It has been a while, hasn't it?" It suddenly occurred to me.

That's right, these muffled murmurs as the dry chalk falls on my hand like flake is the only vivid memory I have of those halcyon days. I wrote the exact words on the blackboard: "Test". Tears quietly dripped down her cheeks, unsure what to write on the sheet. Instead, she scribbled... unaware I was observing.

She dropped by after her shift and handed me a copy of this magazine lying on my desk with her on the cover. Fashion, eh? At least, now that she is out there tracing her path, my retirement should feel worthwhile.

*

I step out of my car with my ears welcoming serene guitar notes coupled with a baritone voice. There is a boy a few feet away singing inconspicuously amidst the crowd. No one is turning, no one is looking, all of them glued to their phones. A shame.

I listen for a while before crossing the road. The restaurant-bar on the other side remains unchanging over the years like a lone pine tree in the concrete woods. I sit down and start scribbling, a concept, an idea, anything. However, a slice of strawberry cake surreptitiously slips in front of me. That jolts me back!

"Are you all right? You look troubled!" a young girl in the oddest arrangement I have ever seen brazenly sits in front of me with her skateboard resting on her laps. "You don't mind the cake, right? Nothing beats a good dessert!"

I look at her, tilting my head, but I accept the invitation. I study her while she blissfully eats her parfait.

"Your attire...where did you get it?" I ask.

"Oh, this? I made it myself!" She smiles. "You are also a regular here, aren't you? You are that designer! I like your style!"

Suddenly, I recall teacher's words. "Always try your best. Your fate isn't decided by a test." He was right. I am glad he is doing well.

*

I take a break, sipping water down my hoarse throat before picking the guitar again. I perform every day in the same place. I became used to the monotonous scenery of people going down their way, hoping someone would pick my stray notes up. I admit it's a bit tough, but as long as I am singing for the few people like that woman this morning, that's fine.

It's uplifting, music. It sends ripples through my very being. I am blessed to have a medium through which I refine those ripples into, usually, upbeat notes. Today, few people have stopped. It's four o'clock.

Just when I thought time would stop too, out of nowhere, a pack of dogs on a leash eagerly stare at me, wagging their tails. The one at the helm is a young pretty girl wearing a wool cap and jeans.

"You stopped? Oh..."

For the first time today, I stop. "Oh, sorry, not you! The dogs." She chuckles. "Please continue."

"You have an audience!" I resume singing, a bit embarrassed. She closes her eyes and listens. Then after a while, I finish.

"Do you have a pet?"

I haven't expected that question.

"No."

"Your music is serene, but you feel...lonely." she pauses then adds "A pet will make your stage cozy!" She then clumsily puts three dollars down and leaves.

It wasn't until moments later that I realized she is blind.

*

It's fascinating.

People tend to brood and grumble from the instant they step inside, yet they all leave the perimeter of this place changed men and women. Refilling people's hearts with a drink is my job, and I take pride in it.

Speaking of the brooding ones. An action star walks into a bar. No, it's not a joke, I wish, but he really is one. He is one of the nightly regulars. He quietly walks in and sits down. Oddly, he still has his sunglasses on.

"The usual?" I quietly ask while polishing a glass.

He nods.

"A shooting gone wrong?" I ask.

"I will never get anything done if I keep waiting for the perfect moment...or shoot. Can you imagine what I would be if I did?" he scoffs.

"I certainly can't imagine a life without a good cup of coffee, at least." I serve him his fill, "especially yours."

"Was that a compliment or a tease?"

"A bit of both," I chuckle. "But my honest compliment goes to that kid." I look through the front glass at the other side of the street. "He has been there all day."

"He is persistent...to an annoying degree even." He sips his coffee staring at the kid.

"You really have a soft spot for him." I smile.

"Ah, shut it. He is just..." He grumbles.

"He reminds you of your beginning, I know." He refuses to admit it, but he asks about the kid every night before the latter packs and goes home.

"Maybe...I can give him his perfect moment. Who knows." He sips before paying and quietly crosses the road.

Coffee sure does wonders.

*

It takes time to improve yourself...and your muscles.

I fancy outdoor workout, especially in the morning. The urge to jog as much as I want without interruption is sacred and I refuse to blemish it with negative thoughts. A corner in the park is accommodated with training equipment, and the scenery of people religiously training, too, is fulfilling.

There is this woman who always powers through with her bicycle. At first glance, she looks ordinary, but the admirable thing about her is the fact that she is a pro cyclist with prosthetic limbs and her indomitable will would make you hopeful. Even my thoroughly trained muscles would shatter against her iron spirit. I truly admire her. Hmm? Enamored with her, you say? What? N-no! I just admire her, really, that's all.

There is also a girl who comes to do another form of training, if we could call it that. A carefree spirit, feeding pigeons alongside the road while swaying to music with her beats on. She is brimming positivity so much that birds rest peacefully on her head and shoulders. With a soul like hers, she can stand head and shoulders with giants.
Truly, there is all kind of amazing people in this world. And I am blessed to be part of it.