"Thing is, I know I'll get there. I know that life keeps going and going until it stops, and that once it's stopped, you've got there, but at the same time, whether or not you've got there doesn't matter, cause by then, you're either somewhere else, or nowhere at all."
The man paused. Looked up. His brow was furrowed and weather beaten, and grey hairs were beginning to spout from his chin alongside the thick black stubble. His thoughts lent him an absurd kind of solace.
"Geez you're a strange one mate! How morbid d'you wanna be?"
"Iuno", he shrugged. It wasn't morbid, he thought, it was hope. It was freedom.
A rush of wind takes them both by surprise, and the other man picks up his glass, grinning at his friend. "Ah, don't worry. You'll keep." He breathed the bitter brew into his mouth and stared at the shining metal table. The kind with circles burnished into it, that always got cut off by another rounded illusion. The circles always fascinated him as a kid. He didn't get how they jumped out at him. How they seemed so separate from each other.
He levered the cup back into its place, using his grimy, calloused hand.
"Hey, remember when we were kids, Sam?"
"What about when we were kids?"
He thought hard. Everything? The freshness of the world. Their innocence and carelessness. Scaling the chicken wire fences around the school oval to tumble down the dunes and splash in the churning white waves, instead of sitting cleanly in class.
Sam helped him out, "what about the time you beat me up?"
They both chuckled. "Yeah, weren't very fond of each other for a while after that, huh?"
"Nup. Mind you, that board was a beauty."
"Yeah, and you crushed it tryin' ta surf down a bloody concrete hill!" The corners of their eyes crinkled with laughter again.
"God we were crazy bastards." Jim croaked on his final word, and looked up at his friend and felt sorry.
Maybe Sam was right. All that shit and yet here they were. The seconds on the clock had ticked away, and they'd ticked on with it.