The man who never had a bad day

It was a cold evening in February when Anastasia received a phone call from her friend’s parents telling her that her friend had crashed his vehicle on the highway and died a few days prior.

She sat in her living room in silence, and let the waves of pain and disbelief penetrate her soul over and over. Finally, she gathered enough strength to offer her condolences to them. The pain in their voice when they thanked her catapulted her into an even deeper dread as she hung up the phone.

Having suffered from depression for most of her adult life, she felt she couldn’t handle this new pain on top of the emptiness she already felt in the core of her being.

She sat in that room in silence, for hours and hours, a victim of her mind’s inability to deal with anything in that moment. A victim of an existential emptiness she had felt for a long time, that now had the right fuel to completely take over her.

It was several days before she was able to leave her apartment. She walked into a convenience store and looked up to see the man in front of her and the cashier enjoying a happy conversation. “I never have a bad day,” the man said. The words struck her. She mustered enough courage to ask him how this was possible.

“Just tell yourself over and over again that it’s not a bad day until you believe it,” he said with a smirk. “It’s all about perspective.”

Others in line smiled and nodded in agreement. It seemed this stranger had just inspired everyone in that line with hope that they too could have a good day if they just told themselves it was one.

Anastasia said thanks, and walked out of the store. A man begging for change stopped her on the sidewalk. She gave him change, and kept walking up the road towards her bus stop.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her purse out of her arms, pushed her into the wall, and proceeded to run into the darkness ahead of her.

It was the man who never had a bad day.

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