As he turned into Sunnyside Mansions and pounded down Fisher Lane, waving distractedly to the guard in his box, Suraj felt heavier than usual. Perhaps it was the sky, so bright he could barely look it in the eye. It was a Saturday so he'd headed out later than usual. The day was unseasonably warm, and he couldn't wait to strip his sodden running gear off and cool down in the shower. There, another pearl of sweat off the end of his nose. First, he needed to slow down. He dropped pace as he swerved into Cabri Lane, then stopped running altogether. Damn, it was hot.
It was about a hundred yards to No. 654, and his thoughts ran easily to the impending celebrations. Neeta would be calling to confirm attendance with his friends, and perhaps a few of his colleagues; the kids would be squalling around the house heedless as she pleaded with them to help tidy up for Papa's big day. Forty-five! What was that, halfway? Back when the Santa Rosa start-up fell through and he'd begun scrambling for options, he'd found the recruitment tag Careers in Beer Begin Here as exotic as Denver's mountains were soothingly familiar. The job was no party (as he still had to explain at parties), but he hadn't looked back since he joined a decade and a half ago. For the youngest Vice-President at Molson Coors, the future was bright. As they used to say back in Vidyadarshan Secondary School, so bright you needed sunglasses.