For the seventh time that day , his phone beeped with the same number. And just like the previous six times , he chose to focus on the rustle of the leaves . In silence he slid his phone into his jacket pocket. He stared blankly ahead , across the flowing river upon the landscape that had once been a dream.
Every single day, from the day he had first arrived in Canada , Seth would sit on the same bench and stare into the horizon ahead , breaking his gaze only to munch on the cold sandwich which served to be his lunch. Every single day had a flavor. Monday’s meant a chicken sausage, Tuesday’s were Salami , Wednesday’s cold cuts , Thursday’s cutlets , Friday and Saturday were tuna whilst on Sundays he chose to just avoid lunch. Sunday’s remained for the past 3 years , his claim to a fast to a heavenly calling . But the truth was that as time passed by , his lunch had just lost its taste. Every Sunday he would take a break , with the hope that in the following week , his taste buds would return.
The sandwiches were always prepared the same . Oregano bread toasted , just enough to give the edges a crisp whilst maintaining the softness of the core. Melted cheddar cheese lined the entire area, covered by a layer of freshly plucked lettuce , olives and a single pickle. Upon it the layer of meat would be placed, but not before being dipped into a combination of ranch and mayo. He never liked his sandwich soggy. It was always prepared in the same way and by the same person, yet the taste had slowly began to vanish.
There was nothing wrong with the sandwich , and he knew it . The problem lay with the sight ahead. For years even before his arrival to Canada, he had upon his dreams colors so bright. But reality had only filled his palette with shades of gray and black. As his bitterness grew upon the panoramic view of Edmonton’s downtown, his tongue slowly lost its taste buds.
A cold wind send chills down his torso. Frost had covered small portions of the trees, but the pigeons still perched on them . It was nearing the end of September , and the leaves had still not fallen, and it felt as if autumn had just been forgotten. The cold had just barged in , freezing time in its wake.
His phone beeped again, and the temptation to switch it off , grew further. And he would have , if not for the pang of the religious guilt that field him. As a child he was constantly taught the sacred commandment, ‘Thou shall honor your parent’. With the thought , his eyes instantaneously welled up. He shielded his face as though the wind had made his eyes water and hidden from an outsiders view , he allowed a single tear drop to fall.
He rose as the hour hand of his watch approached one. A lips curled into the tiniest of smile’s as he watched his only friends swoop the branches upon the straining their beaks to grasp what was left of his half eaten sandwich. He would see them tomorrow. He was sure they would be there , if not for him ,without a doubt for his half eaten sandwich. With that assurance , he turned and walked towards his office , ready to live the life he found solace in.
