Teardrops and Sunshine

Young Chap in the Yard

Either it was the captivating view around me or just the fact that I approached the bench from its side, but I had completely missed a living person seated right there on the bench. I don't know  if it was someone's sheer presence at that location or the condition of the specific old man sitting in front of me that pushed me to investigate the demeanour and attire of what seemed like a man in his fifties or sixties. The man slouched in the seat with his head bowed down aiming at a set of old, wrinkled hands. He had a brown turtleneck on which continued down to his hips where I could see a poorly-fitted trousers which flowed down to his feet where a pair of worn-out generic footwear were present. 

Im not the most social person in the town but I strongly felt the need to converse with this old man - call it pity for his plight or my apparent loneliness. I forcefully tried to spark a conversation by taking a seat right beside this old man- subtle, I know. He 'looked' pretty tired to have a conversation but to my surprise, his voice sounded too healthy to compliment his exterior.

"Oy there lad, 'cough-cough' fancy a talk?"

While his looks screamed exhaustion, his eyes were telling a different story altogether. As he took a glance at my face and I got to take one at his, I promptly noticed an exceptional and dare I say, 'eye-catching' charm in his eyes! It was as if physical fatigue didn't phase him at all and his biological age was the last thing he cared about in this naughty world.

"So how did you stumble upon 'tis rotten grub mate?", the man asked. I don't know which was the more enticing discovery - meeting a native English speaker in the midstof Tokyo city or the unavoidable British accent in his speech. Either way, he surely intrigued me.

"Day off work, aye?!", he said seeing me not uttering a single word as I constantly stare at him with scrutiny.

"Kind of a day-off, yes", I finally replied back.

"Men don't walk by this tub many a day."

"Yeah, not many people to speak of around here."

"It's better that way", the old man stopped, letting out a short sigh.

"So, you live around here?", I said to push the conversation further.

"Ye, been living here for four years now....", he paused for a second and as if regained the charm in his eyes and said, "before you were toilin' around here was yo up to some business?"

I never truly understood British native speakers but somehow made the meanings out of this old man's words and replied,

"Nothing specific, just another day without the hustle. Not that I have no hustle every day but,..." I paused for a second and let out a deep sigh, all while the old man looked at me with an encouraging and patient smirk on his face. I loosened up a bit and said, "I don't get to live the way I want to, I pump out countless hours daily at a job I don't like just in the name of 'survival'. I am somehow managing t run between the shifts. It is as if I am being choked by the hands of the clock. I hate waking up every day now..... How much I hope tomorrow was my last!"

"I am sorry you have to hear all of this. I'm a tinge bit overwhelmed at the moment, I am sorry", I added in an apologetic voice.

By now, the slight smirk on his face has evolved into an all-out smile, with his wrinkles becoming more prominent and making his smile ever so better. It was almost as if his smile was contagious.

When he was done smiling for a while, he slowly started speaking,

"You do it for the money bills don't ya?"