It was nice this time of day. Matt plopped down on the grass at the top of the hill and placed his backpack next to him. For all the liveliness the city provided, he was relieved the park made him forget where he actually was.
The hill was always quiet before lunch. Oddly, Matt had an unbroken streak of having his usual spot every time he visited.
He watched the nearby fountain for a moment. A couple sat at its ledge while a family passed by, two kids running around it, the dad attempting to shepherd them back.
He checked his phone. He looked around again. Then he took out his earbuds and laughed to himself. Sacrilegious, he thought with a grin.
The earbuds went in, suddenly unplaceable in Matt’s memory. He couldn’t recall the last time he sat down with them. Most of his days held the sounds of underwater life. And Remi’s sets were a different experience entirely. Man, he thought. I miss listening to music.
He laid back against the slope of the hill. Large shapely clouds drifted by overhead, puffed up and brilliant against the backdrop of the late morning sky. In the distance he could make out part of the bordering street’s taller buildings. They were old and well-maintained. Any other day would have brought him over for a closer inspection. Today, he pulled out his phone again for the second time in three songs.
No new notifications the second time. He opened up the latest e-mail—a community events newsletter:
Monday: Annual Bags & Boots Drive
Tuesday: Swing Dance Social, Suture Public Library
Wednesday: Overnight Light Walk
Thursday: Lobster Rolls and Chess, The Circle
Friday: Movie Night, The Keep
Huh. Mostly quiet week, he thought.
His thumb hovered over his messages. Gingerly, he opened them.
Nothing new. He put the phone down again.
Matt shifted around. The fountain was still going. A new momentary cast of characters replaced the last one. This time, a group of backpackers, cameras angling at their friends. He looked over. The sun was catching the water just right.
Just right, he thought.