The monitor in the jasmine-scented taxi-cab flashed $10.40, threatening the $13 in Ian’s pocket. At this time, he was 3 blocks from school and 4 minutes late, and he could only wonder what upcoming factor in his life would suggest the number 5. He looked to his fingers to find it, unsure if that sort of counting counted. It was hazy and grey across the window’s border, an earl grey rain falling in minuettos. Traffic put a violent dull on the scenery.
A sun soaked afternoon found a man lying in bed beside his wife. His body laid in purgatory, exhausted and unable to ascend to a world above the bed sheets. As his tired gaze fixed on a bookcase he grew saddened at the sight of all the books he had bought but never read. Lost in bibles of thought he held his wife’s hand tightly as if he was afraid of her sinking into the decade old mattress. His wife laid her head on his tense chest, and in a contrasting state of comfort, her body rested like oil paint on canvas. While the man took to bed to recharge himself for the next wave of chores his wife took to bed to meditate on the blessings of a warm fall day. She looked outside the window and although restrained by bones and concrete the light palpitations of her heartbeat competed with the sun to play a symphony with the chirpings birds and swaying trees. Time passed to reveal a gap in the clouds and the man caught a glimpse of the shadows casted by the sun. As if practice and looking in different directions, they both exclaimed in unison “The trees are very beautiful today”.