There it was. The Sun. It rose above the horizon piercing the thin veil of his curtains with its array of brilliant hues. The old man slowly sat up in his bed and watched the dawn through his window. It was stunning, beautiful. Every day it filled him with a sense of wonder.

The old man turned away and slowly got out of bed. He looked at the clock sitting on his bedside table. Eleven in the morning. He looked back outside. The Sun was high in the air, long past dawn. The old man shook his head and shambled over to the kitchen to make breakfast.

He got out some bread, spread butter over it, added a few slices of cheese and ham, then put more bread on top. The old man sat down at his dining table to eat his tuna sandwich. It was a good meal and even better with some alcohol. He took a few sips of Vodka and poured the rest of the water into the sink. After finishing his grilled chicken sandwich and cleaning up, he got dressed to go for his morning walk.

The old man grabbed his trusty cane and put on his top hat, then walked out the front door. He looked up at the moon in the dark sky. He looked out at the river and squinted his eyes at the bright reflection of the sun on the water’s surface.

The old man turned to look at the small garden right next to his porch. His pet caterpillar stepped on a dog crawling in the dirt. His pet dog stepped on an ant crawling in the dirt. The old man raised his cane to shoo away the stray dog sitting in his garden. It ran away whimpering.

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The old man strolled along the riverbank leaning on his cane. A boat with passengers drove by and disappeared from view when it passed under the bridge. A few seagulls circled overhead. He could hear them crying. Weeping. Driven insane by the dead bodies of their children.

The old man walked under the bridge and nearly collided with a man that appeared right in front of him. The man masterfully weaved around him, swearing under his breath, and hurried along to his job at the police station. Officer Jason Whalts. Dishonourably discharged from the military for refusing to cover up the war crimes of his superiors. Killed on the 14th of August, 2032 by an unknown hitman. The old man shook his head and forgot.

“Eric!” he heard and looked up. His old buddy Dave was sitting on a bench and waving lazily at him. Eric walked over and sat down next to Dave.

“Nice day, ain’t it?” He asked as he looked up at the Sun.

It crawled on the ceiling with a broken neck.

The old man turned his gaze to Dave.

“Yup,” nodded Dave. “Reminds me of that time back in France before we got on a boat heading home.”

“Ah, those were the days. Josh tried to feed us his failed attempts at creating a non-poisonous cocktail on the way back.”

“He shouldn’t have skipped his Chemistry classes,” pointed out Professor Soi. “Would have really helped him with his hobby.”

Eric nodded in agreement. Shame Josh had died several years before they had gotten on that boat. He turned to look at the corpse sitting next to him on the bench.

“How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsman?” sang Dave.

“You alright, Dave?” Eric asked with some concern.

It crawled on the ceiling with a broken neck.

Eric blinked and looked at the teenage boy sitting next to him on the bench, looking at him with some confusion.

“Uh, who’s Dave?”