The Greatest Generation

It was dark when he finally woke up. Understandable considering winter was coming and the sun had started to set early. He had not heard his alarm go off, he had not heard the siren from the ambulance, nor had he heard the knock on his door. He had taken a sleeping pill to ensure the sounds of the city would not waken him. It had been a long night in the studio and he needed the rest before going back to work the next evening.

He was a part-time bartender, part-time deejay, and full-time night owl. His appearance reflected the life he lived. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror he examined the face he had doused with cold water, drops still hanging from his eyebrows and beard. He scratched at the short black ingrown hairs just above his adam’s apple. His eyes, set deep in their sockets, looked worn and tired, the puffiness of his lower eyelids had not gone away with the shock from the cold water. He opened his mouth and grinned to show his teeth. They had been straightened by braces when he was younger and created a welcoming smile, they were strong and not prone to cavities, for that matter he could not remember the last time he had one, the only thing he disliked about them was their pale yellow color. He shifted his gaze to his chest and shoulders, blue viens could be seen through the plain white skin, spiderwebbing down to his stomach and out to his shoulders and into his arms. His chest rarely saw the sun, his hands, arms, and face had some color, but every other part of his body was pale white. A line of black hair extended from his groin in a narrow trail wrapping around his belly button and spreading apart between his nipples. He turned to the toilet and lifted the seat to pee. A stiff yellow stream arched into the bowl. A thin layer of dust lined the base of the wall behind the toilet.

He walked out into his bedroom, which was also his living room, which was also his studio. The cheap Ikea light illuminated the room with a harsh glare that forced awkward shadows into hiding. He grabbed his phone and looked at the time. He was running late. He hurriedly put on the jeans he had worn yesterday, belt still in the loops. He grabbed a black dress shirt from his closet, buttoned up and tucked in, he put on a grey zip up hoodie which had been sitting on a chair by his desk, over that went a tattered jean jacket with holes in the elbows. He made sure his keys were in the pocket while putting on his beat up black chuck’s, a grey checkered scarf was tossed around his neck as he moved toward the door. Down the stairs and out into the street, he grabbed his bike, unlocking it from the stop sign. He raced through the intersection with his sideburns still damp. It was 8:10 p.m. Monday.

The cold wind stung his face and water welled up in his eyes. He sniffed his nose as snot tried to escape. He pedaled hard, through the stop signs of his neighborhood and onto the avenue with its red-lights. With deft agility he dodged cars and pedestrians and smiled when he could feel his heart pounding hard against his chest. This was really the only exercise he got. He was skinny, because of his lifestyle, but when naked it was easy to tell his lack of fitness. His stomach was paunchy and his biceps lacked definition. Only his legs and thighs had the tone of being regularly put to use.

Leaves swirled at the foot of the door, some would make it inside only to get caught on the mat in the entryway. His feet brushed along as he entered the dimly lit bar. It was small, one room, narrow, but deep. The bar followed one wall, from just in front of the door all the way to the back, where the bathrooms were. Across from the entryway ramp, which lifted patrons up above the sidewalk by mere inches, was the stage, in front of big blacked out windows, neon beer signs hung behind the curtain, shining out onto the street. The stage had tables on it when it was not in use, tonight there was a band on tour from somewhere out West, so the tables were down and packed away. A group of four sat at in front of the stage, their faces illuminated by a single flickering candle in a ball glass at the center. Onstage a local band was setting up their gear, they were probably friends with the touring band and would be offering the out-of-towners a place to stay later in the evening. Once he had taken off his scarf and opened up his coat he began to feel the warmth of being inside.

Photo courtesy of Minneapoline.