A Random Spring Day

It was one of those days when the sun is warm but the shade a bitter cold. Boys were wearing shorts and girls cuffed their jeans, couples matched in their khaki shorts and pastel button ups and college students lounged on the steps of the fountain. It was the kind of day that causes women’s posture to change in a vain attempt to keep sweat stains at bay.
The only green in the nearby woods is the brave poking of the spring flowers. Trees stand as gray as winter, knowledgeable of the cold to come. Even with the hint of spring the attitude of the day is that of a dreary day in the middle of January; people talk in a quiet tone, scared that a singe syllable spoken too loud will bring back the snow.
The eerie silence is broken only by the dong of the bell tower, a reminder that a day this good can never last. The smile he gives speaks of promises too good to be true. Such promises are broken by the click of the shutter trying to tie them down. Will he too be lost from a simple click?
Like the cliché spring day the paths along the canal teem with the promises of love. Gray hairs fly by on bicycles, childless professors walk not touching and students fake love by never being without contact.
It’s the kind of day easily forgotten. The kind of day remembered years down the road but only as a sense of déjà vu and lost chances. It’s a day so perfect it breaks hearts.