Will didn’t see anyone, but heard chattering from the windows he passed and the occasional yelp from a dog. It was a grey Saturday afternoon Will noticed; he also noticed that he didn’t go out at all during the rest of the month when it was sunny. He didn’t know why he was outside, walking along the street and trying to decipher the voices from windows; something compelled Will to do these things.
Will was walking toward the beach but realized he didn’t want to contend with the sand so he turned back down the street, passing more buildings. He felt silly, walking for no reason. Maybe he was in some sort of funk, but he wasn’t trying to clear his mind of anything—life was swell for the most part. Will was thirty-nine. He had a stable job. He had money to survive and time for himself. Will looked at the buildings. Will lived in a nice place. He was lucky.
Even though the buildings blocked the ocean the waves could still be heard. A calmness rolled into Will, but Will was already calm.
He returned home. Things were tidy. It didn’t take long for him to make and eat dinner. Will passed the time somehow and he eventually found himself in bed. Will lied there for an hour until a few thoughts wedged themselves between him and the possibility of sleep. They were terrible thoughts. Will tried to shove them away, but they only deepened. He tried to tire his eyes out by staring at the dark ceiling, hoping sleep would follow.