It is completely dark inside your room when you awaken to the deafening noise of your alarm clock. Almost instinctively, mechanically, you reach to your right, switching it off. You wouldn’t want to wake anyone up. It would disturb the serenity of the morning. You glance at the face of the clock as you shut it off.
6:12 a.m.
You turn on the small lamp on your nightstand, filling your room with soft, amber light. Quietly, you make your way to your dresser, sleepily wondering what you’re going to wear today. You fumble about the neat stacks of clothing until you find something suitable, closing the dresser drawers without a sound.
I’ll be there right on time, you think as you slide off your sleepwear, a faded T-shirt and running shorts.
You slip into the outfit you have chosen for the day, a charcoal grey flannel and khakis, admiring yourself in the mirror. You realize how stupid you look, smiling at yourself like an idiot. Smile fading, you hang your head in shame, finishing getting dressed in silence.
To ease your mind, you start thinking about how beautiful the morning is going to be. The trip will be still and quiet—untainted by the sleeping world. You wish that more moments were like these mornings, but at the same time, you don’t because these are your special moments and yours alone. You want to keep it that way.
You finish up your morning look with a neutral grey belt, sliding it through the belt loops with expert precision. You reach atop your dresser, grabbing a pair of black Ray Bans and placing them in the V-Neck of your flannel. You put your dark grey watch on your left hand, tightening it as far as it will go. You glance at its face briefly.
6:14 a.m.
Perfect.
~
In one fell swoop, you grab your phone, wallet, and keys—the holy trinity, as you like to call them—putting them in your front pocket. The keys jingle when they make contact with your khakis. You smile slightly, anticipating your morning drive.
Quietly, you shut off the light in your room, shrouding your world in darkness once more. You have already memorized the path from your nightstand to the door, so silently navigating the dark room isn’t an issue. You unlock the door with a small click, pausing for a moment to let silence consume the room once more. Then, you slowly, slowly, slo-o-owly turn the door handle, feeling the cool metal with your hands as you bring the door toward you.
Once you crack open the door, you feel your way out of the room. You brush your hand against the door and grip the handle silently upon exiting. With a slight thump, you close the door, a jingle and a click indicating you’ve locked it. You wince, fearful that your perfect morning had been sabotaged by the small noise.
You relax once you realize that the dark apartment is as still as ever. The tiny jingle of your keys and click of the lock hadn’t done any lasting damage.
Your tensed shoulders relax as your eyes adjust to the darkness. One of your roommates left the television on in the living room. Its glow illuminates the small common area, complete with a kitchen and tiny living space. Your roommate had been drinking the previous night, as usual, and empty cans of beer decorate living room table.
He had even left an empty carton on the floor by the sofa, which you crinkle your nose at.
Pig.
~
Silently scoffing, you make your way to the kitchen, glancing at the LED display on the stove as your feet make contact with the cool tile floor of the room.
6:15 a.m.
You didn’t realize it had gotten this late. You’ll have to work faster—you can’t miss your morning tradition. Turning to the fridge, you open it just a crack and reach for a small paper bag. You had set it up the night before, just like you did almost every day. It was always in the same place, so you wouldn’t have to reach too far into the fridge to get it. You wouldn’t want the light from the fridge to ruin your morning routine.
In the dim glow of the fridge’s light, you look over the contents of the bag with scrutiny, despite preparing it just the night before. Inside is a small bottle of orange juice, a muffin sealed in a plastic bag, napkins, and a granola bar.
Excellent.
Closing the fridge, you turn back to the LED clock. It’s 6:16 a.m, according to the blue glow emanating from the stove.
I’ll make it on time. Good.
You walk toward the front door of the apartment, illuminated by the idling television. As you approach the front of the apartment, you hear soft snoring. You look at the sofa as you pass it and notice the figure of your roommate in the ultraviolet light of the television. He is curled up under a blanket on the couch, twitching slightly in his sleep.
I need to get out of here now.
Without hesitating, you undo the chain lock and then unlock the door itself. Click. Twisting the handle slowly, slowly, slo-o-o-owly, you open the front door to your apartment.
The door is open just a crack, bringing the grey morning light into the room. You gently push it open with your hand, guiding it toward you.
More light enters the room, the soft morning glow clashing with the artificial, stark light of the television. You step out of the apartment, half of your body inside and half of it out.
You reach for your keys.
You hear a soft groan from inside the apartment as you step forward into the morning glow. You immediately tense and quickly look behind you. Your roommate is now slouched slightly-upright on the couch, holding his head in his hands. He lifts his head and looks at you with a glazed expression. His eyes are glassy and slightly bloodshot and his dirty blonde hair is matted after his night on the couch.
You stand there, awkwardly stuck between the dark interior of the apartment and light of the California morning. Your roommate only continues to stare, tilting his head slightly to the side. He leans back up against the couch, squinting at you, but never closing his eyes.
You begin to grow uncomfortable at this strange display, wondering if there is going to be any sort of confrontation. You tense slightly, bracing for the impact of his inebriated mind.
He continues to stare, his blue eyes lit in the fake Hollywood glow. His head is propped against the couch and his body has relaxed enough to conform to it. Still staring, his eyes slowly begin to shut until he closes them entirely. Even when they are fully shut, you can still feel his piercing gaze burn into your body.
You slam the door.
~
The tall palms rattle in the slight breeze as you look up toward the sky. It gives off a soft grey glow in the pre-dawn light. It’s a slightly chilly day, but you like it that way. There isn’t a cloud in the sky; the world is crisp and perfect. You walk away from the complex, silently making your way past the darkened rooms of your peers.
You make your way through a small courtyard, adorned with tropical plants and a pebble path. Your shoes crunch on the tiny rocks as you walk, brushing past elephant ears and ferns. You smile as the parking lot comes into sight. You exit the vacant courtyard, your shoes connecting with the concrete softly—confidently.
Smiling, you realize how close you are now. You see your car in the parking lot—a black convertible Audi A4. You have a slight spring in your step as you walk toward your parking spot—the one you always choose—beneath the tall palm tree near the back of the lot.
The black paint of the car shines in the grey glow of the morning. You see yourself in the sheen of the car as you approach. You look your reflection in the eye as you take your keys from your pocket and unlock your car. You sit in the driver’s seat and you place your paper bag on the empty passenger’s seat.
You shut the door, turning the key in the ignition. You smile to yourself, unable to hide your joy.
This is gonna be so worth it.
The car comes to life, the engine a soft growl from the interior of the vehicle. The LED display glows red, showing the time.
6:19 a.m.
Hurry up, you’ll be late.
You throw the car in reverse, listening to the purr of its exhaust. You laugh, turning on the radio as the car jolts backward.
The car comes alive with the sounds of synth-pop as you leave the parking lot, turning out onto the road beside the apartment complex. Barely anyone is out this early; the roads are nearly empty. A single pickup truck passes by on the opposite side of the road, but besides that you are alone. Just the way you like it.
The music guides you down the empty streets of Laguna Niguel. You know this route by heart, at this point, mechanically shifting lanes and putting your signal on in the appropriate places. You focus on the experience—the music combined with the freedom of the drive—feeling your anxieties fall to the wayside.
You drive past small businesses and convenience stores, your car coasting through green lights. Your eyes scan the sidewalks for morning risers like yourself.
A woman walks her Pomeranian through the main avenue of shops, yawning slightly in her sweatpants and baggy hoodie as the dog pees on a street sign. A man bikes beside the road, leaning toward the handlebars, his face a salmon color. A white-hot Tesla whips out in front of you, accelerating quickly as its engine roars to life.
You smile, taking in the simple purity of the morning. These drives always put you in such good spirits.
You see the neon sign glow of a sign somewhere up the road. You know the sign all too well—Laguna Beach Java. It glows orange in the grey of the dawn. You glance at the LED clock.
6:27 a.m.
You have time to spare.
You guide the car into the right lane, putting your turn signal on briefly. Easing your foot off of the gas pedal, you feel the car start to slow. Your eyes are fixed on the neon sign which gets closer and closer, brighter and brighter. Suddenly it is to your immediate right. You turn quickly, veering sharply into the parking lot.
The car bounces as it glides over the embankment leading into the parking lot. You effortlessly guide the car into your usual space, putting the car in park. You check the clock again before removing the key from the ignition, watching as it changes from 6:27 to 6:28.
You turn the car off.
~
A small jingle accompanies your entrance into the coffee shop. Soft jazz plays in the nearly-empty café. You disregard the music and look around. An older man sits at a table facing away from you. He is reading the paper closely, unaware that you’ve even entered. You hear the clatter of dishes from the café’s back room. Making your way toward the front register, you wait patiently for the barista.
You check your watch.
6:29 a.m.
The jingle of the front door surprises you and your quickly glance in the direction of the door. A young guy and girl have entered the café, laughing and giggling amongst themselves. The guy holds the door open for the girl and then proceeds to hold her hand. They make their way toward you.
You jolt your eyes back toward the front register.
You can hear them stop right behind you, their shoes squeaking on the freshly-cleaned tile. Giggling, you hear the girl lean over and kiss the guy. You hear more laughing, and laughing, and laughing.
You tap your foot in anxiety.
Maybe getting coffee this morning was a mistake.
You check your watch again.
6:32 a.m.
You’ve already gone through the trouble of driving here, you might as well just get your coffee. You sigh and continue to tap your foot. Clattering noises from the back indicate that the barista doesn’t know you’re here yet.
Sighing once more, you close your eyes. You try to focus on the forgettable jazz music, but you can only hear their laughter, their pet names.
They just can’t stop laughing. It makes you anxious. You can feel yourself starting to sweat. You just want to run out of the café and get back in your car. You want to leave the jazz music and the newly-cleaned floors and the pet names. You want to be with yourself again, but you can’t. Not until you get out of here.
You look over at the old man and he seems oblivious to your obvious distress. He still has his face buried in the newspaper, like this doesn’t even bother him.
Finally, the barista appears from the back room, holding a stack of clear pitchers and lids. She notices you and the couple behind you and quickly sets everything down, her pigtails bobbing with each bouncy step.
She turns toward you, flashing you a smile, and typing in your drink with ease. She has your total up in a few moment’s time—$4.45.
You reach for your wallet, pulling out a crisp five and handing it to the barista. She gives you back two quarters and a nickel. You put the change into your wallet and tuck it back into your shorts.
Nodding to the barista, you make your way toward a chair near the hand-off plane and wait.
She quickly rings up the couple behind you and you glare at them as she does.
The guy orders for his girlfriend and pays for his and her drinks. You scoff, rolling your eyes. The barista gives them a cheery smile before sliding over to the bar to make the drinks.
You watch her as she makes yours. She steams the milk, adds the vanilla, and pulls a couple of espresso shots. You hear the hum of the machine as the milk froths in its pitcher. It almost distracts you from the laughter and kissing sounds emanating from the couple, who have remained stationed in front of the register.
You check your watch.
6:35 a.m.
The barista puts a lid on your drink, setting it gracefully down on the bar. You saunter up to the hand-off plane, giving her a small smile. Grabbing a drink sleeve, you take your latte and head toward the door. You sip it before you leave. The vanilla-infused espresso warms your throat as you step into the cool morning breeze.
Sighing, you unlock the Audi. It lets out a chirp as you approach it, and you pull the driver’s side door open with a small creak. You put your key in the ignition, synthpop filling up the California dawn.
The LED display in your car reads 6:39 a.m. in its red glow.
You throw the car in reverse and peel out of the café’s parking lot.
~
You leave the city, your engine growling as you push the car into a higher gear. The clusters of buildings and businesses become a blur as you race past, speeding down the wide, empty road with expert precision.
The mountains loom ahead of you, their green, lush faces lit up in the gentle morning light. The road carves through the mountains with a wide, banking turn. You admire the trees growing from the cliff face beside you, glancing at the Jacarandas and their bright purple flowers, which appear as a violet blur in the passenger side window.
Peace. Absolute peace. I live for this.
You continue to drive down the empty road, passing beneath hanging trees and towering palms. You can hear the soft purr of your engine over the music.
You glance at the LED clock once again.
6:43 a.m.
You feel a slight smile form as you realize how close you are to your destination. You see glints of the Pacific behind buildings and shrubbery as you drive. The mountains flank you on one side and the ocean on the other. You take it all in as you drive, watching the water glint in the soft glow of the morning sun.
Bringing your car to a higher gear, you push down on the acceleration, the car’s gentle purrs turning into sharp growls. You giggle like a child as adrenaline courses through your veins. The Pacific becomes a blur beside you, the glimmering waves beginning to look more like impressionist art than water.
The burst of speed is short-lived, however, as you finally see your destination to your left. You slow your car, down-shifting the gear, causing the car to lurch a bit. You put your signal on and turn, barely looking for oncoming traffic. You turn confidently, guiding the car into the entrance to a small park. Your synth-pop music continues to play, accenting your arrival.
Just on time, you think as you look at the LED clock in the center console of the car.
6:45 a.m.
~
The smooth tarmac of the road suddenly becomes dirt as you drive toward the parking lot. Your car bumps and rocks over the terrain, bouncing you in your seat. You see the Pacific in front of you, glimmering and glittering in the waxing sunlight.
No one else has parked here yet; you are alone—just the way you like it.
You pull into a small dirt space, highlighted by an unimpressive concrete slab. You park the car tightly in the space, inching up to the slab as close as you can.
Putting the car in park, you kill the ignition, which sharply cuts off the music. Grabbing your latte and paper bag, you take off your seat belt and open the door. The ocean breeze instantly hits you as you step out of the car. The smell of the saltwater tickles your nose as the wind combs through your short, dark hair.
You lock your car and walk away, toward the beach. You head to a path that carves through the sand dunes and beach grass, leading to the ocean.
Walking down the small path, you get closer and closer to Pacific until you are standing on its shore. The cerulean expanse of the ocean meets the cool grey sky as far as the eye can see. Miles and miles of beach extend to your left and right, uninterrupted and completely pristine.
You take a seat in the sand, stretching your legs out in front of you, watching the waves crash and foam against the shoreline. They white-cap and recede back into the deep blue void from which they came. You watch as each wave foam and dissolve, only to be interrupted by the crashing of yet another wave.
You turn around, taking your eyes off the crashing waves for a moment. Pinks, blues, periwinkles, and oranges paint the sky, illuminating the palm trees in a golden glow that causes you to squint.
Looking at the light grey sky, you turn around and notice how much it clashes with the explosion of color behind you. You watch a wave crash and hit the shore and then turn back around, sitting facing the sand dunes and the rising sun.
Perfect.
~
You stretch your legs back out in front of you and set the bottle of juice in the sand, where it instantly becomes covered in tiny granules. You sip your latte slowly as you look out toward the grey ocean. The crests of the waves glimmer orange in the slowly-rising sun. The warm espresso and milk tickle your throat. You cough, setting the empty latte down in the sand, beside the orange juice.
Taking a bite of your muffin, you watch the trees rock to and fro in the breeze. You admire your surroundings as you eat your breakfast, sighing, which is complemented by the sharp crash of a beached wave.
I wish I could enjoy something like this… with someone.
The anxious thoughts race into your head, like waves as they return back to the ocean. You realize just how desolate the beach is and just how alone you are.
No one else would appreciate this though. They’d think I’m weird for hanging out here so early… By myself…
Your heart starts to race as the anxiety consumes you. You finish your muffin, placing the wrapper back in the bag. You exhale rapidly.
Okay, just breathe. Just… Enjoy this. You are here after all. Worry later…
...Please.
You sigh and focus on the waves behind you, letting them hypnotize you with their rhythmic rising and falling. You let your mind become entranced by the beach scene as you slowly forget about your worries.
You uncap your orange juice, taking a swig as you look back toward the rising sun. Orange and yellow tones completely dominate the sky and even the ocean side of the beach now sport a light blue-grey sky.
A brown plover flies over you, so close that you can hear the beating of its tiny wings in the stillness of the morning. The sea grass rattles in the wind as the fronds of the tall palms sway this way and that.
There is no reason for you to be anxious. Not when there is such a beautiful scene before you. That would be taking this beautiful place for granted. You finish off your orange juice, setting the bottle down next to you.
Putting on your Ray Bans, you look out toward the ocean and smile confidently behind your tinted veil.
I knew this morning would be perfect.
~
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