It was the best time of day to be out and the little man hurried along as best he could. Most mornings he walked the streets, even though his Plantar Fasciitis was giving him the gyp he knew if he kept going it would warm up and he’d make it around his circuit.
He needed to keep going as he knew the fog would lift soon and the stinking heat of the day would descend and if he didn’t get his jobs done before that happened there would be no getting anything done. Once the heat set in it was shut up the house, turn on the air con and do things internal.
He liked this time of day apart from the occasional other walker and the workers on their way to their respective employment there was little to interrupt his revere.
He walked with head down, you never knew what you might spy on the ground and some days he had been lucky in finding spilt change on the ground.
There was the respectful “Good morning” to other walkers and the admiration for the joggers already looking hot and bothered as they jogged by.
On the homeward journey, he’d often run into a few other walkers he had gotten to know and they’d stop and pass pleasantries before hurrying off for the same reasons as him.
On this day, he reached home just as the sun was finding its way through the fog. The intensity of the initial beams a foretelling of the day ahead.