Clouds drifted and The Sun warmed. The park was busy with joggers and crossfitters and dog walkers. It had been six months since The Van Man exercised on its grounds. He needed some sunshine.
Pull-ups. Crunches. And then The Gentleman approached with his friendly dog, Wilbur. Perfect name for the cordial, yellow beast. The Gentleman was just as neighborly as he had always been. A kindness that was rare in the City of Angels.
"Hey, man, how you been?", asked Van Man with a smile and a handshake.
"Good. It's good to see you", replied The Gentleman with a wide smile of his own. And Wilbur yelped as he happily sniffed Van Man's crotch.
"Just thought I'd come down and get some sun", said Van Man.
"Oh, that's good. You look well. The last time I saw you, you had that cough"
"Yeah, got rid of that bastard"
Van Man was glad to see The Gentleman. He had always been friendly and brought pleasant conversation to the park. Suddenly, Van Man remembered Gentleman's sick friend, a nice lady about whom Gentleman spoke highly of.
"Hey, how's your friend doing? She better?"
"Oh...she died", replied The Gentleman, solemnly. His head hung low. "February eleventh"
Saturday at the park turned gloomy. Terminal brain cancer had a way of doing that.
The conversation ended and the two said their goodbyes. Wilbur wagged his tail and yelped. He was happy. Across the street, a new mother carried her newborn from a house. Van Man remembered a time when that new mother was not a parent, but a hot, piece of ass. Dressed sexily for a night, rushing down the drive way in high heels and cramming into a car with her scantily-clad friends. What a difference tequila and nine months can make.
The workout was over and the clouds had overpowered The Sun. He walked to the van. In the distance, The Gentleman walked somberly. Beside him, a happy Wilbur. There was something to be learned, but The Van Man only drove away. He did not have the time.