Reasoning An Unplanned Day

Beaten down showing two-day-old bruises is hard enough to start a day. It was some kind of holiday. Even worse still, not sleeping and realizing a five-mile walk is close to your de-caffeinated apartment. It wasn’t planned, any of it. The bruised decorations purple and yellow speckled with popped red vessels. Well, Two days ago the bruises were engrained deep near the bones. Designated colors fallowed not in regards with aesthetics and festivities just force per maximum pain. That much expected and lingered. Without a beaten down time crossed out on a calendar, there’s no telling what was suppose to happen.
    Stepping out of the apartment a light blared. It was copying the sun. Maybe it was it’s understudy for today. It was convincing to the eyes until the brain woke up pointing out a missed cue. It can’t be day during night time unless the stars and moon painted the blue sky black for April Fools. Now that’s a real holiday less to cook and nothing is expected. It’s ridiculous for nature to pay for all that material even for a hilarious prank.
    To bad, it’s not April, unless it is April?
    Being outside without a calendar it seemed pointless to solve this debacle. The brain woke up briefly again and kicked a reflective glance upward to remember there isn’t a calendar inside either. It seems sadistic to record beatings no matter what holiday it might be.
    It’s night time anyway, the holiday is almost over, unless today’s New Years? It’s not drunk or depressing enough to be new years and the bruises would be in the face area. Soft shapely handprints don’t linger as much as knuckles or metal objects. Passion to defend depends on self-worth superseded to some by vanity. Maybe New Years hasn’t started yet.

    Clocks are silly objects until time seems to matter.
    Coffee seems to matter more waking up in the dark.
    Time or walking started or ended the waking night for coffee.

    After about a mile (to be exact 1.3), a coffee shop with an overpriced theme killed the fresh air. Overpowering two elderly cigars some filtered teens and a trash can holding vomit. It was even disruptive on a holiday of such magnitude as this one. Unbelievable. It didn’t post holiday hours. Four miles (to be exact 3.7) hardly seems far enough from such a disrespectful smell.
    A chill licked after a walking dog passed. Their person smiled with a phoned ear social disorder. Responding only to pocket vibrations for communication, her shirtsleeve revealed a wristwatch to far away to ask her number for the time. She smelt the vomit when discarding her coffee. She couldn’t help no-matter what time it might be.
    Distance was closing near another small coffee shop. It is the third in this direction. The second one is on the opposite side of the street. Cars don’t stop for pedestrians unless a crosswalk is present and the only time to cross this rode is around eleven at night. The risk is too great without knowing the places holiday hours and the time of day. Dodging traffic waste a lot of energy when enough coffee is consumed, it’s not worth trying without coffee especially with bruised-body artwork.