[ WP ] Most people can count themselves lucky if they get the chance to go on a single real adventure .

There were a few benches in the little resting area next to the parking lot. They were made out of recycled plastic planks that were molded to look like wood and were supported by iron bars that were rusting in some places. Zach ate lunch there, everyday, a few minutes after 1:15 in the afternoon. He was usually able to finish up enough of his work by then to allow himself a break, and even if he did n't, a mental breath of fresh air needs to be taken every now and then to keep productivity up. 
 
 Zach pulled his plastic-wrapped tuna sandwich out of the paper sack and began to open it. White bread and tuna mixed with mayonnaise, still cold from the refrigerator in his office. It was a fairly plain sandwich, but enjoyable nonetheless. 
 
 The paper sack jostled around in Zach's lap as he changed his position, bringing his left leg up on top of the right so he could wiggle his foot freely in the air. As he bit into the sandwich, noticing how the bread was lightly moistened from the mayonnaise, he looked out at the people going to and fro in their daily routines. His office building was in a fairly busy part of town, and there were always people walking along the sidewalk on his and the opposite side of the road, and the bench he sat at was oriented toward them. 
 
 Sometimes he felt sorry for them. They always seemed so... unhappy. Never smiling. They stared straight ahead, or intently at their phones, and walked quickly from their cars to their buildings, or walked in straight lines along the sidewalk to the bus stop. They never breathed the air. They never looked at the leaves in the trees planted every ten feet or so along the borders of properties. They were always somewhere else, always worrying about some paperwork that needed to be filled out, some meeting they had to attend. And they were never satisfied. 
 
 They probably went to bed every night thinking about the coming morning. They all rushed from one place to the other, eyebrows slightly furrowed, mouths in tight lines, struggling through a self-imposed daily monotony, and rarely allowed themselves to dream about somewhere else. A beach, a waterfall, maybe a hike, an adventure. Something exciting, something fun and different. 
 
 Zach knew that it was easy to start seeing things as tedious and repetitive. Heck, he went the to the same building every day, returned to his apartment at the same time every night, watched the same TV shows, fell asleep in the same bed. But he was careful to pay attention, to be aware of the little changes. While similar things were done every day, they were never the same. There was always variation, little happenstances that highlighted each day. Peoples' moods changed, different cars came and went and made deliveries, pets got sick or made a mess of a toilet paper roll, kids did well on tests or had to be taken to soccer practice because the spouse was hoping to have lunch with one of their friends. Little stories were always around, hidden in plain sight, making the world colorful, speaking of its complexity, and Zach made sure they did n't go unnoticed. It helped him to find contentment, made him interested, and went to bed every night with a feeling of appreciation. He tried to spread this mood to others when he could, tried to help them feel relaxed or happy, just because he felt like he should. He counted himself lucky.
