He awakes releasing a heavy pant; he then franticly scans his bedroom with his rich, brown eyes.

He slowly sits up, taking time to recuperate from his dreams on the edge of his bed as hes
burying his face into his hands. He thinks to himselfIts morning again. As hes thinking he
notices raindrops hitting his window pane. The sound of light rain is so crisp to his ears; he
doesnt need to look behind him to see the appearance of his foggy window. He utters, Hm. Its
raining again.

He finally makes his way to his bedroom to shower; sixteen minutes later hes fixing his tie in
his mirror. As hes unhappy with the fitting of his pant around his thighs, he thinks to
himselfWhy are clothes cut so small these days? Like what average size man wears thigh
hugging pants? He then begins to ponder about the Black male self image via the media. Hes
thinkingWhy is it that chiseled, fair skin Black men with beautiful eye colors are deemed
as beautiful to the masses? If the Black male image isnt a beautiful bi-racial model, hes
then depicted as a thug, if not a thug; hes the Uncle Tom, friendly sidekick buddy, and if
not the cooning buddy then hes the dark skin, ugly slave. How can dark skin be so ugly
when its the same colors of starry nights and radiating moonshine? He breaks out of his
gaze by calmly blinking as he deeply inhales. Hes done with his tie then he put on his suit jacket
only to make his way to the kitchen. He slowly prepares his breakfast within twenty-seven
minutes. Hes delighted with the wonderful spread he has prepared for himself. As hes sitting
eating his hardy breakfast he then thinks to himselfIts so quiet in here. His ears are kissed by

the whispering hiss of silence echoing off his pale walls. He tries to chew louder with each bite
to fight off the cold silence. He finally finishes his meal, washes his dishes, and sits back at his
kitchen table. He looks down at his wrist watch that reads, 10:45 AM. He looks up to his wall
clock as the minute hand gracefully touches number after number and then a sense of tranquility
falls over him. He thinks to himselfMaybe this year will be different. Maybe people will
need more from me than just favors and last minute handouts. Maybe this year Ill be
more than just another Black face in this Grey world that accuses me for talking White,
instead Ill be seen as an educated Black man that worked hard to be in this moment of my
life. White people will stop looking at me as an Affirmative Action hire and Black people
will accept me as a Black man with a different outlook on life. He smirks then wonders to
himselfMaybe this year someone will love me for all the right reasons. Maybe, right?
His watch alarm goes off at the sign of 10:51 AM. He quietly inhales nothing but dark silence
that surrounds him. He thinks to himselfIm going to wait five minutes, I know someone had
to remember. Maybe theyre busy. Thats what it is, theyre busy! He observes his wall clock
hands as theyre counting down to 10:56 but instead he chillingly watched his clock hands
touched number after number until 11:17. He finally releases a deep sigh of discontent following
with somber words he utters, Of course no one loves me. Hm.

Suddenly he reveals a gun he has concealed in his lap under the kitchen table. He inserts the tip
of the gun into his mouth with his eyes closed tightly as hes taking a deep breath but before he
could finish breathing; BLAM! is violently screamed in the hallways of his home. As the bullet
exits the back of his skull all of his dreams, aspirations, memories, and nightmares follow with a
trail of blood and brain fragment. Quickly his head drops to his kitchen table as his soul is
departing from the back of his steaming skull. Breaking the dead silence of his home is a ringing
telephone. His answer machine catches the missed call at 11:19 AM. A cheerful woman screams,
HAPPY BIRTDAY, WES! I cant believe my baby brother is finally thirty! I know youre
probably busy but Ill be over later with mom and dad with a cake. Kay? I love ya, Wes! Enjoy
your day!

Gloomy Days & The Happy People Who Love Them