Sun rays perpetrate the curtains separating my bedroom from the outside world. I get up and open them. I am greeted by the bluest of skies and the sun providing a perfectly enjoyable temperature.
The hands of the clock have yet to reach 07:00 a.m. Granting me the opportunity for the divine combination of a cup of coffee and a morning stroll.
I put on my black jeans, black T-shirt and dark boots and open the door. There I stand in awe, finding myself in a world of colours. Multiple rainbows have exploded overnight. Everything is so bright and fluorescent yet pleasant to the eyes.
I put on my sunglasses and head towards the park. A refreshing gust of wind has tree branches waving at me. Birds flying past chirp of joy and compliment every person they fly by.
“What?” is the logical word I say.
Upon crossing the street I see several road signs. Warnings and announcements have been swapped for words of encouragement: ‘Chase your dreams’, ‘Live, love, laugh’, ‘You go, girl’.
It is a peculiar day.
In the city park I hear voices of angels coming from the sky. They are singing all sorts of reggaeton bangers. Fluffy bunnies hopping by hum the tune of Safaera.
I order a cup of coffee and take a sip. The aroma and flavour is heavenly. A massage for my esophagus, an orgasm for my nose.
I glance at the newspaper while finishing my coffee. The headlines read: ‘People fighting over imaginary friends bury hatchet’, ‘Global peace talks progress’, ‘Dictators and their following legalize euthanasia and lead by example’, ‘Scientists find: Having a sense of humour cures being chronically offended’.
A filter of utopia seems to have been placed over the day to day reality.
I continue my stride and notice the sound of young ladies giggling. Nearby I see the Argentinian and Colombian female volleyball teams playing a match. They’re smiling and pouring water over each other in slow motion to sensually fight the heat.
The captains of both squads run up to me. I stare and try to keep my dropped jaw from dislocating.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” says the Argentinian captain. “But we’re in desperate need of having a pillow fight in lingerie in your bedroom in a bit. Afterwards we’d like to engage in adult cuddling with you for as long as you please.”
The Colombian captain pouts and gives me a look that would give even the most castrated of eunuchs an erection. “Would you be okay with that?”
Having forgotten the majority of my vocabulary I nod, give them the address and head home to eat some sweet foods and make my bed.
Once home I look into the mirror. No longer do I appear to be the man in black. My clothes have turned white, my boots are of a soft beige, my hair has a golden sheen over it and my eyes resemble today’s blue sky.
I shut my eyes and hear my inner voice saying: “This will be your year.”
There’s giggling in the hallway. The sound of pillows softly slapping against marvelous buttocks. I open my eyes and then the door.
This will be your year.
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