A Bright Morning

Option Four:Fiction - from Writing Cafe

Who will tell whether one happy moment of love or the joy of breathing or walking on a bright morning and smelling the fresh air, is not worth all the suffering and effort which life implies.
~Erich Fromm

Using the above quotation as your inspiration, write a flash-fic, scene, or short story involving a bright morning.

Henry Stealman looked down at the Erich Fromm quote printed in a fancy swirling scrip on his paper napkin, let out an annoyed half snort, and wiped off a bit of foam from his morning latte, his lips staining the paper with a muddy blotch. One happy moment equivalent to the suffering of life? Ha, he thought, getting up and making his way to the door of the Wedgewood Cafe.

Henry was in the midst of a very messy and very expensive divorce. Twelve years ago, when he and his young bride were happily married, they couldn't even think of a life without the other one in it, and so bought burial plots together at the Happy Rolling Acres cemetery. Now, after several affairs had come to light, all of them his, the last thing either one of them wanted to do was spend an eternity slowly decaying within a 10 mile radius of the other. To make matters worse, these plots were not side by side, but rather, in an effort by Happy Rolling Acres to be more eco-friendly, stacked vertically, so that even in death, someone had to be on the bottom, and someone got to be on top. It was the matter of who got to be on top that was the crux of the whole divorce. The cemetery had been firm that they would not accept refunds because no one wanted to be buried in the same vertical grave as a stranger. Also, neither Henry or his wife wanted to surrender their share of the twelve-foot pit that overlooked the city, and both were holding firm that since neither one of them could conceive of being buried anywhere else but that plot, they fought over who got the top spot.

Henry, who wanted to be buried in the same cemetery as his father, had tried to buy off his wife, increasing the settlement every time their lawyers met. But his wife had continued to hold firm, stating that she wanted to be buried in the same cemetery as her mother, and that fantastic plots like the ones they owed, with scenic views of the city, were one in a million. He would have to come up with at least that amount before she budged. While Henry was quite wealthy, he wasn't quite a millionaire, and so the battle continued.

Henry stepped outside of the cafe and headed towards work, his mind still focusing on the divorce and at what a bitch his wife was. It had rained during the night, and the sidewalk and streets were filled with shallow puddles of water, brightly reflecting the intense light of the morning sun. Man, thought Henry, feeling around in his pocket for his pair of sunglasses,it is really sunny out here. After unsuccessfully finding his glasses, Henry continued on his way to work, squinting through the intense glare.

Suddenly, a loud horn snapped him out of his intense concentration, and he realised, a moment too late, that his feet were on autopilot and that he had forgotten to stop at the crosswalk. The last thing he saw were the blinding lights of the semi-truck.

The driver of the semi, as he told police, who later told Henry's widow, had been temporary blinded by a large puddle in the road reflecting the bright Spring sunshine, and it was only at the last moment that he saw Henry and managed to sound out a warning horn. Henry's wife took the news solemnly and said that she would inform the lawyers.

A week later, at Henry's funeral, after all the guests had left, Henry's widow made her way to the grave. "Oh Henry," she said with a smile on her face as she took off her new Prada sunglasses, courtesy of Henry's insurance money, "Don't you know that women ALWAYS end up on top?"