Brick braced his fingers to tap away furiously at his keyboard yet they stayed still. The only light came from his lamp, which tinted his desk with an apricot hue. The clock continued to mercilessly tick away, which only served as a reminder that the deadline was getting closer and closer. Brick slammed his keyboard. He had no idea on how to start his article. He held his head in his hands, all he could think about was how his career was over. He desperately needed some fresh air, some inspiration. He took his notes, laptop, and combed his hair back to put on his signature red cap, and walked out the door.
On a bench that gave the perfect view of the ocean, far away from any pet, child or adult; under the wild berry trees that stained the bench and the ground blue with its fruit. This was where Brick sat. It was much too quiet for his liking, he preferred the chaos of the afternoon over the tranquillity of the dawn. When it usually gave him the motivation to write, today it did not.
The redhead was immersed in his notes until a cute blonde walked near him. She took a seat right next to the staring boy. She sprinkled bread crumbs onto the berry-stained ground with her dove white hand. Color kissed her cheeks due to the sheer cold, her lips masked by the fluffy cotton scarf around her neck. Just looking at her made Brick's pale cheeks turn pink, his attention was drawn by her beauty, oblivious to some of his being whisked away by the autumn wind.
"The sunrise is beautiful, isn't it?" She turned her head, intent to start a conversation.
"As beautiful as it every day," he muttered as he quickly turned his head away. Yet once he spoke, he couldn't help but add on, "Although, if something beautiful like a sunrise happens every day, it loses the appeal."
Her crystal blue eyes suddenly became much more intense.
"Oh don't stay that," she playfully slapped his arm, "the fact that something as beautiful as a sunrise returns every morning should be considered as hope. No matter how ugly the world might seem, the sun will always return every morning. It's a privilege that shouldn't be taken for granted."
Brick chuckled at her outburst. Her optimistic outlook seemed childish and naive to him. Although, her passion for her ideas were something to admire. He wondered just how long it would take for them to become corrupted, or for the light in her crystal blue eyes to dim like his blood red eyes. He wondered what kind of tragedy would it take to hurt her irreversibly.
"Is that what you tell yourself every morning so you don't have to dread being alive?" His chuckling had finally come to a stop. "It's more like the sun taunts me, it tells me that tomorrow is only going to be worse. Its beauty is just a facade that it wears so that you feel hopeful that your day might get better, but you're wrong. It laughs because the sun doesn't have to deal with the shit you have to deal with. The only reason it's still beautiful is that it's not on Earth."
The blonde girl took a deep breath in. She didn't feel upset in any way, but rather sympathetic to the poor cynical redhead. She wanted to welcome him in open arms and whisper "Everything will be okay" while stroking his hair. However, he might take her sympathy as pity, so she fought the urge. Instead, she would blurt out a lot at once.
"I'm so sorry that you feel that way. I don't know what you've gone through and I don't want to offend you. But, I have to respectfully disagree. There's always a possibility that your day will become better. Sometimes it's the little things that brighten up your day like fireflies dancing in the night or the smell of a fresh pastry that you have yet to try. All of the horrible nights that you had which you'd spend bawling your eyes out until they've dried, when you thought that humanity was hopeless and forever lost; these are the moments that make the small precious moments more valuable."
Normally when Brick found himself in the middle of this kind of conversation, the person he would be talking to would become uncomfortable and try to leave the topic as soon as possible. However, this lady just wouldn't back down. He had never met someone so optimistic and respectful before. Her personality was like a refreshing glass of lemonade that could never go bad. He continued his conversation with her, she enjoyed his dry humor while he appreciated her horrible puns. Soon, the park was becoming more and more crowded. People were yelling and screaming. But he wanted to stay in the park, he wanted to stay in case he never saw her again.
Then a sudden realization hit him.
"I'm sorry." He placed his hand on her shoulder, "what is your name?"
"Bubbles." Suits her. "And yours is?"
"Ah, I'm Brick." He slightly smiled.
Bubbles was taken aback. "J-Jojo?" She tilted her head and knitted her eyebrows, she stared as if the answer was in his appearance.
"Yes." Both confused and excited by this turn of events, "how did you know?"
"I've seen your name before, don't you write for "The Rising Sun." She spoke carefully as if one wrong word would drive her new odd friend away.
"The sun will never set on the American empire, it can only rise" isn't it such a fitting slogan for a newspaper." He replied with content but one look at her made him regret having a mouth. She hugged herself as if she had to console herself for learning this horrible truth.
"Why?" She said quietly but her volume began to rise. "Does it give you pleasure to spread horrible lies to the public, to light a flame that could burn the whole city. Have you ever thought about the damage you've caused?" Her eyes became soft, she ached for some sign of sympathy towards these people.
"It pays the bills." He replied with his usual responses however instead of feeling satisfied, he felt uneasy. He worried that it would just drive her away. Which it did, the blonde girl - who he had already had felt close to - rose from her seat.
"I don't think I can continue to talk to someone who spreads lies for a living." She said with a choked throat. Her eyes were slightly glassy, her voice had lost its pure optimistic tone and turned into pain and genuine sadness for people she didn't know. Brick missed the joyful tone - the passion, the inspiration; now it just made him genuinely sad, not for the people but for her. He yearned for her to come back, he wanted the naive optimism in his life but she was already long gone.
By the time he arrived back home, he had already figured out how he should start his article. Yet, he did not type away on his laptop. Instead, he would handwrite letters he would never send with a new inspiration in mind. But first, he would need mail his letter of resignation before tomorrow.
