BILLET-DOUX ✦ CLASSIC ROCK

15 - ray davies

This came to fruition because I was overanalyzing (Wish I Could Fly Like) Superman. Somehow I haven't written anything for The Kinks yet, and that is a travesty.
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The early morning was overcast and the ground thick with fog that slowly creeped through the maze of streets and alleys. The sun hadn't fully risen, holding the gloom hostage over the city. This was a normal occurrence in your small London borough, and you had come to appreciate the wistful weather. With the modern shops and cars disguised,  it could easily be mistaken for the ever-romanticized Victorian era.

It was that literary mystique that called you out into your garden each morning with a large cup of coffee to keep yourself awake. You would survey your meager little fenced in yard, making a mental note of what needed to be done and what you needed in order to do it. Since it was so small, your list was always short and you were quick to move onto other things.

Daydreaming about the city, about past cities, about past lives that had lived and died here long before you had come along. The planet itself was so vast that it almost frightened you. Humans were naught but ants in the grand scheme of things. So easy to disappear and not missed –  not truly. The world kept turning and the planets kept spinning. People were dying as you sat on your back stoop, passing from this world into the next, and you were largely unaffected.

Today was no different. You stepped out into the garden in your bare feet, hands clasped around the warm cup of coffee to fend off the chill. The fog covered the grass in a thin blanket of grey-white that was curling around your small patch of flowers and a row of neatly pruned bushes. The sky was a mottled indigo, as if unsure about the coming day.

You hummed, taking a sip of your coffee as you felt the insistent tug of sleep on your eyelids. Trying to keep awake, you went over your chores again and again.

It was your first day off in nearly a week, so the flowers needed tending to and the grass needed mowed. You wanted to paint the fence that was steadily peeling away and spruce up the yard with feeders for the few birds that would venture into the city. The idea of reinvigorating your old garden put a renewed pep in your step as you headed back inside to grab the materials that you needed.

Although the sun wasn't up yet, you liked getting the work started so that you'd be able to enjoy the fruits of your labor mid-day when it was bright outside. So you dug out a can of paint and some brushes from inside and got to work.

You had chosen a cheery pastel blue colored paint for the fence, wanting to make the green of the garden pop. It would be slow going, especially with trimming the grass so that it wouldn't get in the way of your broad strokes. But soon you got into the swing of things and fell into a rhythm of clipping and painting, getting a quarter of the way finished by the time the sun rose.

You were so immersed in your task that you hardly noticed the vague rustling coming from the other side of the fence in your neighbor's yard. As you were approaching the top of the fence with your brush, you came face-to-face with a man around your age. He startled you, causing you to drop the paint brush with a gasp.

Your neighbor grinned sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that. Didn't mean t'startle you there."

Stooping to retrieve the brush, you offered up a kind smile of your own, though forced. You had barely met Ray. When you had moved in, he hadn't bothered to come over and welcome you as was typical in populated neighborhoods. He kept to himself, and the only times that you would bump into one another were when you both were getting your mail at the same time.