"Why don't you take a morning off?” Brad sighed. "And come back here, my love."
Kelly smiled as she pulled running shorts over her long tanned legs.
"You know I can't miss a day. Not, if I'm going to win that marathon! Keep me company." She tied her sneakers.
"Not today babe. I'm real tired." Brad replied with one eye closed. "Besides, I can't keep up with you at my best."
Kelly blew him a kiss. "Keep the bed warm. I'll be back real soon." She locked the apartment door behind her.
It was a damp, overcast morning at Venice Beach. The sea mist quickly enveloped Kelly, as she went through her leg stretches.
'Maybe I should forget it this morning?' She thought and suddenly yearned to be safe in her lover's arms. The mist felt like icy fingers that pinched her skin. 'But if I miss a day itwill be harder the next.'
Reluctantly, she slowly began to run along the sidewalk.
A drunk was passed out next to a trash dumpster, empty beer bottle by his side. He had been using it as his sleeping place for the last three nights; probably for his food as well, she suspected. Kelly wondered how old he was. It was impossible to tell with his long mattered hair and overgrown beard.
She encountered the homeless almost every day and it always depressed her, but once she turned onto Wave View Street, her spirits were raised as she passed by the quaint houses.
Wave View is one of the many pedestrian alley ways that crisscross the city of Venice. These houses are an eclectic community of brightly painted wood bungalows from the 1950's and modern multi-level dwellings.
The mist began to clear as Kelly ran passed her favorite house.
It was shaped similar to a light house, and the top portion of its central tower entirely encased in glass. She imagined that the views from that vantage point were spectacular as it was the tallest building in the neighborhood and within a block from the beach.
The front yard was open and she noticed the young man as he arranged fold-up tables.
"He"s having another yard sale.' She thought. 'Every Saturday; like clockwork.'
Kelly felt a certain curiousity about the man. He did not look like the usual Venice Beach vendors who had their spots along the entire length of the boardwalk and peddled everything from Indian Joss sticks to model airplanes made from recycled soda cans.
The man caught her gaze for an instant and then shyly turned away to set up his wares. 'He's kind cute,' she smiled and soon joined the cycle path that winds along the beach from neighboring Santa Monica through Venice and beyond.
She kicked her pace up a notch and began to pass most of the others already on the pathway; joggers, dog walkers and skate boarders.
These days the Venice beach community is a diverse group of affluent wannabes, die-hard Hippies, street performers, foreign vendors and dozens of vagrants.
It is in some ways still a throwback from the sixties, with the ever present legacy of Jim Morrison on billboards, re-cycled T-shirts and posters. And even a tribute band that performs Doors music every weekend at a beach front bar. But there is now also something very seedy about the surrounding slums; ever present police - force, gang-bangers and look- a- like stores, whose owners were not even American Citizens during those innocent years and could care less about the history of Venice beach.
Kelly appeared somehow unscathed by the tawdry surroundings. Tall and beautiful, her long black hair shined as it fell about her shoulders.
The promenade was already a hive of activity when she turned once again onto Wave View Street, now near the end of her run.
Kelly glimpsed the young man as he sat behind a table, intently reading a book. An elderly couple browsed through some items.
"Why not?" She stopped running and walked towards the yard sale. 'Besides, I'm dying to have a closer look at that house.'
The young man nodded a welcome as he helped the older man with a purchase. She smiled in return and her gaze was quickly drawn to a piece of jewelery.
"That's adorable!" She said out loud, and picked it up to look more closely.
"I'm glad you like it." The young man replied, nervously. "It's mine...I mean, I made it."
"I'm impressed. How much are you asking?"
"Err...How about five dollars?"
"Done!" Kelly handed him a twenty dollar bill from a pocket.
"I'll get change." He opened a nearby cash box. "If you're interested, I have more of my jewelry. Would you care to see it?"
