Grey-haired

The grey-haired old man smiled contentedly.

In the morning of the 27th of February of 2022, on my way out of my Lulu Island house, I saw my neighbours the redhead Rochelle of Russian-Mennonite ancestry and the grey-haired moustached Al from the Anglophone section of Montreal; he was from many generations of Canadians. He said that he did not know French, when he lived in Montreal. I ate a slice of pesto cheese pizza at the pizzeria. The vendor was from Mumbai. Through the window, I could see a young brown-blond-haired man in a dark-grey hooded jacket and blue shorts, which made him look like a "big boy." At the cafe, there was an under-age-30 crowd of ten outside, of whom one looked like a handsome Jew. Inside was a table of five or six over-age-30 people, of whom one was a handsome tomboy in a dark-green jacket and army-green pants. I drank my iced black tea. Heading out of the cafe, I saw the "big boy" smoking in the wooded park. I took the long route home, through the grassy school field littered with goose poop, the northern snowcapped mountains obscured by clouds, an Animistic-Buddhistic view seemingly of a different planet. Near my house, parked in a truck were Olivia and Daniel. Olivia was studying Biochemistry. In the back seat of the truck was a fully black German Shepherd.

Now, I'm a grey-haired git with a sense of arrogance born of surviving this long in RAIL.