Sunny Side Up by Seb de Robillard

“So?”
“I’m happy.”
“Yeah? So what?”
“Well, you asked.”

And it was true. Mike was happy, and had been so for a few years.

“A few years.”
“Bullshit.”

It wasn’t bullshit, it was the truth. Sure, not everyday was a holiday, not every day was Christmas, but fuck Christ all mighty, he was happy.

“How? How did you get happy? Become happy, sorry?”
“ I apologised.”

That was it. He said he was sorry.

“That’s it?”

It sure was.

He decided, that he needed to swallow his pride, his ego and just show some humility. He got rid of his “bullshit” and just apologised.

“Three words? “I’m Sorry”?”
“That’s two words idiot, and it was a little more complicated than that.”

Of course it was a little bit more complicated than that, most things are. What sent it off this time? A book? A song?

“I don’t really know how I ended up in the park, but there I was. I think I passed out, after drinking with some hobos, and then a few hours later, the sun came up.”
“Did they rob you?”
“No.”
“Really?.”
“I was covered in a fine film of dew, this was in early summer. The sun slowly crept up, gently nudging me awake, and I just thought of her.”
“Because of the dew?”
“The sun. It wasn’t a cold morning or anything, but the sun warmed me. Pulsed through my body. I breathed in deeply, and I smelt her.”
“Huh?”
“The warm sun, it smelt like her.”

Mike never worked out how he ever associated her and her smell and summer, never quite worked out what summer even smelt like.


Mike’s friend was a little confused. He had not read Patrick Suskind’s Perfume like your trusty narrator, therefore had no real understanding of the power of the nose and stuff and how it makes you feel or remember things without you even realising.

“Then what?”
“I called her, woke up her, and told her I was sorry. Sorry for the way I had been, the way I behaved. I said I was sorry for not being honest and not allowing myself to be hurt. For not taking a risk. I apologised for taking her for granted, for just expecting her to be there when I wanted her to be there. I apologised for being a selfish person.”
“Did you tell her you loved her?”
“No. We met up a few hours later for coffee, I still stank of hobo goon and morning grass.”
“So you were wearing cheap as cologne?” Mike’s friend laughed.

“Sure. She looked like she had just woken up; her skin was paler than her usual lovely tint. She looked like morning, you know?. It was like her blood hadn’t really started flowing yet, flowing to give her that glow. Her beautiful glow. “
“And you told her this?”
“No. She looked annoyed, but there was flicker of curiosity, of interest in her eyes. We hugged, I should say, I hugged her. I held her for a long time. At first she was not to keen about it, even did the old pat on the back a few times, you know, “Get-off-me-pats”, but then she relaxed. We embraced, held each other like that for some time.”

“And then…”
“And then I told her I could smell the sunlight on her skin. She looked at me, and smiled.”