His phone blared a warning from the National Weather Service:

Avoid going outside. it’s going to be a heavy dust day.

After making some fresh ground steaming coffee, he added a dollop of cream and carried it to the veranda. He walked quickly, almost juggling the mug. He sipped and slurped the foam along the way, quickly placing it on the glass table. After raising his imported Venetian blinds, he grunted as he pulled open the sliding glass door. He slid into his wicker chair and took a sip of his coffee. 

Outside, the floating flakes of yellow micro-dust shimmered into haze, yellow-tinting the air and diluting the sky grey-green. It almost looked like rain, the soft misty kind. People scurried below the veranda, wearing white surgical masks to filter the dust. They looked blurry as they hurried to find relief. Cars passed in the street streaked and tinted by yellow tinge. A dog sat on the corner, oblivious, perhaps waiting for its master. He found the view oddly serene.

He coughed as he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply.

He enjoyed his peccadillo. Like most people, he had started smoking because his friends did. During parties and after meals when he began. Now, over a pack a day. He reveled in defying social convention. There were half hearted attempts to quit before, but he gave up after a few hours. He could quit anytime he often told himself. So often that it became a mantra, but not a reality.

            BZZZZZZZ.

Cursing his forgetfulness, he walked over to see who it was. It was Harry.

            “Yo, a bit early isn’t it? I'm not even done with coffee. Could’t shoot me a message on chat?”

            “Dude, I just saw a freaking awesome documentary and had to tell you about it.”

            “Oh, what was so good about it?”

            “It’s called The Cove.”

            “Sounds scary.”

            “Not in the way you think.”

            “Hmm, now I’m curious.”

            “It’s about dolphin killing in Japan.”

            “Oh, you mean the tuna thing? I told you. I don’t care about that. I love my tuna fish sandwiches swimming in mayo, of course.”

            “It’s way worse.”

            “Spoiler alert.”

            “Don't worry about that. Just watch it. It’s on YouTube.”

            “Umm, I’m pretty busy.”

            “Make time. It’ll change how you think.

            “I like how I think.”

            “Just watch it, dumbass. Or at least try.

            “O.K., but no guarantees.

            “Let’s have coffee and discuss after.”

            “Coffee? Now you’re talking.”

            He hung up and wondered why the call? This could have been accomplished on chat. Maybe there was something to this documentary. But documentaries were usually boring, so he put it off.

            The day passed without much fanfare. He chatted with a few friends and watched a movie, smoked more cigarettes and drank more coffee, as he watched the world from his veranda.

BZZZZZZZ.

It was Harry but this time a chat message: “Did you watch it yet?”

            “N”

            “K Lemme kno.”

            He tossed the phone on the sofa and returned to the veranda for a cigarette. The window was peppered with yellow spots, which convinced him to watch that movie. He searched it up on YouTube and hit play.

            An hour and a half later, he headed to the kitchen to find something to eat. “That was some weird stuff,” he thought as he reached for a bag of chips and considered mashing some tuna. But the images of the bloody dolphins, of the lone dolphin swimming like hell to escape from its would be murderers, of the tears of the woman describing the dolphin replayed in a loop. He could not get the bloody dolphins and the woman out of his head

The chips were tasty, a bit spicy, but now he needed more. Some fast food was in order.

            When the doors opened, the invisible lady apologized to him for the elevator’s tardiness. He smirked as he rode down the elevator wondering whose voice that was.

As he left the building, he lit a cigarette for the walk. As he walked past the dog, he tried to relax. The dog seemed to watch him, and thoughts of that cove in Japan swirling with crimson dolphin blood and screaming dolphins haunted him. The cigarette grew bitter and he threw it on the sidewalk as he neared his destination. He thought about quitting again, but the fast food joint was in front of him. Its smell dulled the unpleasant smell of dust and cigarette and his thoughts. Inhaling, he walked in and ordered a double cheeseburger and extra large fries to go. He could have eaten there, but he loved his veranda. As he exited the restaurant, the cigarette butt glared at him from the sidewalk, but he stepped on it and walked past it. When he arrived home, he shredded the bag open and tore into his meal.

            BZZZZZZZ.

He picked the worst moments to chat.

“U watch it? I hv 1 mo fo u”

“Not gonna 2bz”

“Cmon”

“U get on my nerves”

“K sorry”

“NP”

And that was that. But that night he tossed and turned. His stomach grumbled and he dreamed of dolphins and dust with the ladies’ voices in the background, crying and apologizing.

He awoke unrefreshed and stressed. As he splashed cold water on his face and began to wake up, he heard a voice. It was a researcher from the documentary:

“It’s about consciousness. They are self-aware, like humans are self-aware.”

He peered at the mirror as the water ran. He felt disgusted without a coffee and cigarette. After repeating his morning ritual, he looked out the yellow window, now streaked in yellow from last night’s rain, and ruminated about his life. Looking at his cigarette, he thought about quitting one day. One day for sure.

BZZZZZZZ.

He decided to ignore Harry and watch the streaky, hazy yellow world. He shut off his phone and threw his butt out the window of his veranda. As he leaned over the rail to watch the butt drift down through the dust, he noticed the dog still sitting on the corner. He wished that the dolphins and ladies would shut up and that the damn dog would leave.