He wears his blue New Balance sneakers and the black socks with the Nike Swoosh on them, camouflage shorts, and a T-shirt. Always his G-Shock watch, the kind that’s chunked up with cool functions and you can really beat it up. That is one of Gabe’s hobbies: G-Shock watches.
With his hands in his pockets, he walks along a curve in the road on his way to the farm shop a mile away. They sell coffee and sandwiches and stuff there. Gabe doesn’t drink coffee, and he is not especially hungry just now, but he walks there anyway, like he does most days.
It’s private, just him, the way other people do. And it helps make the days go by until the next day, which might be better than this day. Gabe’s sneakers against the pavement, the only sound except for the singing birds.
They have good blueberry muffins. The women working behind the counter will say, “Hey, Gabe. Howya doing.” It’s nice at the farm shop.
He turns left down a long road with no sidewalks, only bright-green lawns that slope down to the street. Big, mostly older houses. Robins tweet as they peck at seeds in the grass of the big yards.
Gabe’s eyebrows are slightly raised and his chin is puckered. He looks a little bored but also receptive to the world around him. He looks ready, in case anything happens, but he knows that it usually doesn’t.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
