Morning Jay

Morning sunlight glinted through the glass, pinkish and pale gold. He watched the light reflect, dance and shimmer, along the surface of the desk, shining on the various metal knickknacks and glass paperweights neatly placed along the edges, illuminating the manila envelope that sat there, packed fat with important papers and documents.

Sitting there in the desk chair, hunched forward in the seat, elbows resting firmly against knees while usually-strong hands now trembled as they held his chin, fingers covering his mouth just below his nose he remained totally silent.

Staring at the enveloped, haloed in the morning light from the window, it seemed like a paradox. The sunlight, to him, represented goodness and purity, happiness. The manila envelope was innocent enough by itself, but what lay within was nothing short of sinister.

This shouldn’t be happening right now. This task wasn’t something he should have to do at all, but especially not on a day like today, this morning so bright and cheerful. This should wait until an afternoon or an evening. The weather should be bleak and horrid, storming in sheets of rain so fat the drops stung when they hit your skin, the sky slate gray and unforgiving.

That’s how it would be if this were a horror movie. And it certainly felt as if he were in one of those movies, a teenage slasher film at some sleepaway camp in the woods that he couldn’t leave because despite the fact that there was a killer on the loose picking off teenagers one by one, the roads were all washed out and impossible to get through.

But, he wasn’t a teenager anymore, and this was real life. Real life just wasn’t like the movies. Real life was worse.

He ignored the few tears that slipped from his eyes and meandered slowly down his cheeks, getting lost in his night’s worth of stubble. Instead, he sniffed back the emotions, cleared his throat, straightened his body up and reached forward with hands still trembling to pick up the envelope he’d put together last night, stand up and head for the door.

He and his wife hadn’t quite been thirty yet, and this had never been something they truly thought they’d need to use. Just a precaution that you took when you got married, when you started a family. Nothing was actually supposed to happen to you while you were still so young.

Within contained various legal documentation, including a living will and power of attorney papers. He was the husband, the next of kin, so he probably didn’t truly need them. But, it would make things easier, faster, smoother when he carried out his wife’s final wishes.

At least as far as all the legal stuff went. It wouldn’t make things easier, faster, or smoother for him.

He stopped and took one look back at the room, at the desk where the morning sunlight continued to glint through the glass, still pinkish and pale gold, as if for this one moment time would stand still for him. The way it should, rather than continuing to move forward as if nothing of consequence where happening, as if his life weren’t shattering into a million pieces right this very moment.

But, the moment was ruined by a shocking, yet dull as it was loud, thud against the window and he flinched, a blue jay flying into the window, hitting the glass, and bouncing back off. Probably landing somewhere on the ground directly beneath the window, in the grass and shade, hidden from the cheery sunlight.

His wife had always loved blue jays…