It was the third Sunday of the month, one of my favourite days. It was market day. I walked around the market, a field where dozens of stalls had been set up to sell goods of all kinds. There was a park at one end of the field where children laughed and played. People wandered around lazily with their families, many with dogs, talking and inspecting the wares of offer.
I liked my little seaside town. The people were friendly enough, if not for the creepy conservative old people that seemed ever present. The beaches were perfect in my opinion, with soft sand and small waves. The bat population was poorly controlled and made a mess. Sydney was a couple of hours away, far enough to be separate from the hustle and bustle of city life but close enough that visiting was not too inconvenient with a bit of planning.
It was a warm November morning and I was dressed in loose cargo shorts and a plain blue v-neck t shirt. My feet were bare and I enjoyed the feeling of grass on my skin. I felt the sun on my skin and breathed deeply, enjoying the vast array of smells of food and leather and wood and people and animals. I heard everything if I wanted but I let the sounds wash over me. Letting the noise get to me would be too much. I saw everything but I focused my vision on one detail at a time. Heightened senses were one of the reasons I hated cities.
I stopped by a stall selling fresh bee products. I picked up a tiny sample pot of honey and breathed the scent in deeply. It was one of my favourite smells. It was sweet, rich and complex, full of sugar and flowers and the industrious bees that made it.
I exhaled and smiled at the vendor, an elderly woman with a hunched back and wiry hair. I knew her well enough; I came by her stall every month not always to buy always to enjoy. She was pleasant if thoroughly obsessed with her hives. I listened politely when she chatted away then I bought a few jars of honey and a packet of chocolate covered honeycomb.
My next stop was a stall selling vegetables for a couple of nights' meals then on to fresh fruit. I inspected each item carefully, only picking the freshest and best smelling. I was lucky enough that I had arrived early and the best had not been sold already. I was not always so lucky.
With arms laden with groceries, I headed back to the car to drop off my haul then returned to the markets for a final walk around the field. I strolled to the far end of the field where land fell away sharply in a metre high drop into the ocean. I briefly considered striping off and just diving in then and there. The day was really starting to warm up and the briny water looked and smelled so inviting.
I ultimately deciding against making a fool of myself in public and went and bought a couple of hot dogs for lunch instead. I wolfed down the first on my way to the small, nearby beach. I waded up my calves in the water as I ate the second. The sun was hot, the water was cold and the food, while while far from culinary excellence, was at least filling.
There was a shift in the light breeze and picked up a scent I did not recognise. It was like summer, the ocean and honey all mixed into one. I could tell it came from a man around my age but little else. The wind was light and the scent was weak. I looked around, not seeing anyone nearby that caught my eye. Then the wind changed again and I shrugged it off. Maybe my nose was playing tricks on me, confusing all the other scents around me.
I walked over to my car and cleaned most of the sand off my feet of with a towel I kept in the back for just such an occasion. Cleaned up, I headed home, stopping at my local butcher for a few meals worth of meat.
Home was a modern townhouse ten minutes from the centre of town and a few streets in form the beach. It was one of those little places that pop up amidst older houses for young people to get away from the city for a weekend of partying. At least, that's the impression I got from the house next door. A summer retreat for the young and idle.
It suited me though. I lived alone so I did not need a lot of extra space and I worked to much to worry about it too much. It was a short walk from the beach and a short drive to work. Apart from the neighbours being a bit rowdy in the summer, the area was quiet.
Inside was almost tidy and mostly clean, with a few signs of being lived in. There was a light blanket on the back of the lounge where I had hastily folded and left it after a late night reading. There was sand on the floor where I had left my shoes by the door, my bowl from breakfast still in the sink and an empty beer bottle on the kitchen counter. There were stacks of books all over the place.
I put my groceries away and began cleaning up a little when my phone rang. I saw the name at rolled my eyes.
"Hey, Chaz," I said in answer, "What's up, mate?"
Charlie, as he was known to his parents and no one else, was my best friend. We had grown up together, going to school together, playing on the same sports teams, got drunk together and shared a house when we were in university. We even dated a couple of the same girls, though not at the same time. After I moved away from home, we did not lose touch. He called at least once a week and regularly made the drive from Sydney to crash on my couch.
"Hey Mace," Chaz said, "I just ran into your mum. She asked how you were. I guess you haven't called in a while."
I groaned inwardly. "Haven't had any reason to call. Nothing ever happens to me, you know that, and they don't share anything with me."
"I dunno, mate. They might actually be trying to reach out this time."
"They ignored me for fifteen years, they can put up with me ignoring them a little longer. I had Em here visiting last week and she didn't mention it at all."
"Your sister always plays peacekeeper."
"Actually, she was here taking a break from them. She's got a new boyfriend and they're getting all overprotective on her."
"Speaking of visits, I won't be able to make the trip next week. Boss has asked me to work some overtime on this build. Couple of weeks and I'll be all yours though. I miss your cooking. I've been living off take out and it's starting to show."
"Like my cooking is so slimming.
Chaz laughed. We chatted for over an hour about nothing in particular. After a while, Chaz said his girlfriend was coming over and we said goodbye.
I was normally fine being on my own but after a conversation with Chaz I immediately felt bored. I loved the quiet life I had made for myself but being away from my friend and my sister sometimes had me nostalgic for the trouble I used to get into. I sighed, put on some music and pulled out my laptop. I had some things to get ahead of before work the next day.
As the sun started to set, I put away work things and went about cooking, making enough for several meals so would not have to worry about lunches at work. I had a beer with dinner. I hated the stuff and getting drunk was next to impossible for me but I was expected to drink when around other people so I practised.
After dinner, I watched a bit of TV, flipped through the channels aimlessly, then turned in for the night.
