The sound of her leather jacket was soothing. She had done her makeup the night before and put her hair into a bun on top of her head. Wrapping it with a bandana. There was the crunch of gravel underneath her feet as she walked into the convenience store.
There was an old man standing behind the counter. He was reading a paperback novel. There was music playing on the overhead speakers. Given that it was morning, she bought a small sleeve of donuts. He had a pot of coffee going and she poured herself a cup. Adding her sugar and cream, she approached the counter.
“Morning,” he said setting down his novel.
“Good morning,” she said.
He looked at Julia. She was young, somewhere in her early twenties. She had bright red lipstick and her skin was pale. She wore a buttoned down dark blue shirt with white polka dots tied at the waist. Black boots and black leggings.
She glanced at him. He had a Santa quality about him. Was probably a grandpa. He wore a black Motley Crue T-shirt and jeans. He had tiny reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose.
He glanced at the clock. It was five in the morning.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what’re you doing up so early, dressed so fine?” he asked.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Julia said. “Thought I would take my bike out for a ride. Go see the sun rise.”
“That sounds like a helluva morning,” the old man said.
“I noticed your sign has different hours. You shouldn’t be open this early.”
“Couldn’t sleep so I figured I could make some money to early risers like yourself.”
“That’s fair.”
“Where are you heading to see the sunrise?”
“West Quoddy Head lighthouse. I’m racing the sun.”
“Funny, isn’t it? The most eastern point in America is called West Quoddy. Interesting.”
She held out a twenty.
“Keep it,” he said. “You have a good ride. Wish I was your age again. Sounds like you’re having fun.”
“I am and I don’t want to short a small business, especially one run by such a gentleman,” Julia said.
“Fair enough.”
He took the cash and gave her her change. She offered her hand and the took shook. She walked out of the store and threw her leg over her bike. She started it up, revved the engine and took off down the road.
The road to the lighthouse needed people to be wide awake. The coffee was a boon to her. She got to the lighthouse and parked her bike in the parking lot. She climbed the small hill and waited.
There were others there with her. They were doing the same. Waiting for the sun. Waiting for a new day full of promise.
She thought about the breakup that she had gone through recently. How for so long, she had felt wrong and foolish for breaking up with him. He had done such a good job putting her down. Trying to dampen her light. Now though, as the sun rose turning the sky pink. The feel of the sea on her face, she felt alive again. Light and beautiful. She raised her cup to the sun and hoped that the old man at the convenience store had a good day as well.
The next day was rainy and cloudy. The day after promised clear skies.
Because of this, an older gentleman, white of beard and aching in his bones rolled a motorcycle out of his garage. An older but slightly younger woman, not used to being awake at this time of day but happy that her husband was happy, came walking out of the house securing a helmet over her hair.
“Let’s go, mama,” he said.
They drove into the coming dawn. They saw the sunrise. They hit the road again. They saw where the day could take them.
Franklin Cota, an author and podcaster 