"COPS REJECT DOUGHNUTS!"
Regis cursed under his breath as he read the morning paper. The article described the unfortunate incident that had occurred the previous day. A young man had brought a box of Pretty Pastries to the police station, claiming to be fundraising for an organization at the local community college. The officers had given him their home addresses and politely asked him to visit them after business hours instead of carrying a box of gourmet doughnuts around their office while they were trying to work.
One question remained: How had the story become public knowledge? The student had been at the police station for only a few minutes. Who had alerted the media? The most likely suspect was the student himself, but it could have been any of the officers who had found the situation amusing.
Still muttering profanities, Regis poured himself a cup of coffee. He took it without cream or sugar, preferring the strong, direct taste. The world was already filled to the brim with fools who attempted to disguise the way things truly were.
As was his custom, he seated himself in his leather armchair and turned on the television, keeping the volume low to avoid disturbing his wife. Regis enjoyed having an hour to brace himself before being forced to rub shoulders with the ignorant sheep of his community, but Steph preferred to face the day well-rested, so she continued sleeping as long as possible when her husband rose of a morning.
The early program showed an infomercial about water purified twice to remove the excess hydrogen. For three easy payments of nearly twenty dollars each, the company would mail a purification device to the interested customer.
"Hydrogen is a deadly chemical!" the announcer continued. "It pollutes the ozone layer, and most people with diabetes, cancer, and heart disease consumed hydrogen in their food within twenty-four hours of hearing their diagnosis. Hydrogen is also used in bombs. What's it doing in our water?"
Regis immediately changed the channel. Naïve sheep were led astray by anyone in a lab coat. Heaven forbid they should attempt to learn a few facts for themselves before blindly accepting new information! The poor fools were too trusting to recognize amber eyes and grizzled fur lurking beneath a wool coat.
He hated to think of the innocent lambs lost to misinformation concerning human rights and basic health. At least Steph had borne him no children. After all, they both had full time jobs. Who had time for a family? Was he to throw away the life he had labored for years to achieve and fall into an existence of changing diapers and singing ludicrous songs that made him feel like slitting his own throat?
The man sipped his coffee, relishing the warmth as it slid down his throat. It was easily the only warmth his heart felt on any given day. Of course, he had his wife, but they coexisted more as brother and sister, often failing to understand each other, but still feeling the slightest hints of unusual friendship. After several years of marriage, they had grown accustomed to tolerating each other's presence, especially since their union made perfect sense, as Regis had explained during his proposal. They shared similar goals in life, and their personalities complemented each other perfectly.
The alarm clock rang in the bedroom, and Steph yawned and stretched. What age did a person have to obtain before it was acceptable to yearn for the past? She wriggled her toes, thinking of a time her feet had been put to better use.
Lithe and slender, Steph had been offered a full scholarship for athletics at the local university, and she was talented enough to do any sport she chose. Her feet barely skimmed the ground when she raced around the track, and many volleyball games owed their victory to her alternation between low crouches and high leaps.
Of course, all dreams must come to an end. Steph had lost her scholarship when the slightest miscalculation during a gymnastics performance had cost her a badly sprained ankle. The inability to afford tuition had driven her to the workforce only one semester before she would have graduated.
Although it had ended in disappointment, her time in school had not been wasted. Steph fondly remembered her very first semester at the university. She had attended a charity ball, and all eyes had been on her jet black gown. Her sleeveless dress revealed her shoulders, but nothing more. A sharp contrast to the darkness she wore were her elbow-length gloves of silk the same color as the pearls that graced her slender neck and the pumps that lay hidden beneath her billowing skirt.
A young man in a tuxedo had approached her. "I believe white is more your color. It would better complement your dark hair."
Steph fluttered her silken fan, as pure white as newly fallen snow. "And what is your major, my dear sir? You are studying to be a fashion consultant, no doubt."
"Merely complimenting beauty." He turned to go.
"Were you here to give compliments or to dance?"
The youth turned and held out his arms for her. He had expected her movements to be encumbered by so many yards of fabric, but no matter how the tempo of the music increased, she never once missed a step. Not one strand of perfectly pinned hair fell out of place, and her brow showed no traces of perspiration.
"Tiring?" she queried gently. "You're nearly breathless."
"But not of your beauty."
"You're neither the first nor the last man to say as much." She smiled, fluttering her lashes. "Can I offer you some punch?"
"Yes, please. Then I should catch my breath."
She lightly punched his upper arm. "Farewell."
Regis watched as she disappeared into the crowd. The other young man who shared his dorm room was by him in an instant.
"You liked her, didn't you?" he asked.
"Who doesn't?"
His roommate laughed. "What if I told you she's an athlete? I know her sports schedule."
"So you like her too?"
"I like the profit I make off desperate fools who would do anything to see her again."
Steph's memories were interrupted by the face that stared at her from the bathroom mirror. Was that a wrinkle? No, she was still too young. Wasn't she? She stepped onto the scale, sighing in dismay at the rising numbers.
She could hear the prattle of the television in the living room. What would anger Regis today? No matter. All people had their own ways of coping with the evils of the world. Let Regis grumble if he wished. She would ignore him, just as she did almost everyone else.
"Good morning, dear," Steph greeted as she poured some coffee for herself. "Still wolves among the flock?"
"Unfortunately." He shut off the television. "Would you care for a jog?"
They always ran together of a morning. The park was only a few blocks away, and they would begin with a light jog and end by racing each other. It was a way of spending time together and releasing stress.
Of course, not everything was pleasant. Every now and then, there would be someone who made grunting or squealing sounds at the pair. However, most people took no notice of them.
A child watched them and pointed. "Wha' dat?"
"They're just stretching their legs," the mother explained.
Squirrels raced up trees and scolded, their tails twitching.
"Seems we interrupted their breakfast," Regis commented.
"We should grab some doughnuts," Steph teased, lightly punching his arm. "Race you?"
After all these years, Regis still enjoyed watching his wife run. She was still swift and graceful, and the wind whipped her tresses until they danced. Someday he would find the words to tell her. This morning would not be the day, for a mixed breed terrier had come bounding from out of nowhere joined the chase, nearly tripping Steph.
"Little fool!" she scolded, barely regaining her footing. "Where's your moronic owner?"
Regis seized the offender, carefully restraining the head to avoid being bitten. He continued to scowl as the dog's owner approached.
"Do you by chance know what a leash law is?" he demanded brusquely, thrusting the terrier into the other man's arms. "There are children here!" Under his breath, he added the words, "You idiot."