The Sunglasses Kiosk

I've been working here since my 18th birthday. It was only supposed to be a summer job, but we're open year round and the pay's decent. And hey, there are worse starts to grad life.

don't do much business during winter; it's mostly just a few timid optimists buying ahead. Funnily enough, my biggest-ever sale came shortly before Christmas when a whole family day-tripping on the pier decided to kit themselves out for an upcoming cruise vacation. The dad was already wearing a Hawaiian shirt, his kids trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. I smiled and wished them all a great trip and for the first time in ages thought about plane ticket prices and how cheap it could be to get home.

Another slow day heaves itself into evening, the sky bristles with stars, the sun streaks purple-pink and coral as it straddles the horizon, and I close up. Before heading back to my digs though, I'll make a quick pit stop at the harbour wall.

There's one long tear in its rusty metal fence, and through the schism when the light hits right I'll catch the old sea fort looking like a spaceship ready to launch on the eve of Armageddon. And even though a part of me keeps screaming "Get out, escape now while you still can", something stronger says this isn't the end. Only greater things are to come.

If you can dream in the darkness.