The gentle breath of dawn seeped across the horizon, bathing the land like a softly whispered promise, rolling forth in a way of dewy fog that spoke of spring coming just into view. For the Earth had thawed, winter relinquishing its harsh grasp on the world. As the frozen foundation, where not a single step was left behind in a mere trace upon the solid soil, began to melt.
The ground beneath your boots, squashed softly with the familiar sound of saturated dirt, the mud a welcome comfort after the sheen of ice and piles of snow that coated the cobbles and paved the once vivacious country roads. It gripped to the bottom of your soles, feeling the weight of your strolling frame threatening to be dragged down upon the timidly blooming environment, but there was something grounding in the mud that mucked the tips of your riding boots and filled the air with a rich scent of the newly awakened Earth.
It was a crisp morning, the warmth of the sun had yet to bleed into the atmosphere and erase the traces of the cold evening's presence. But it's rays of marigold and the softest streak of quartz pink, shone through the haze of fresh morning. Flooding the sky above you with a tentative hue that contrasted the once dense indigo blanket of impenetrable night.
Spring whispered along the sing-song melodies of the newly arrived birds, returning to Birmingham as though they too knew that warmer days were destined to arise. Although the voice was timid, trickling softly through the breeze that rustled the bare branches of trees that yearned for the return of their leaves, and breathed as if the chartreuse that began to seep back into the dormant blades of surrounding grass, was a life resurrected.
Spring spoke softly, like an echo trailing along the chilled morning current, but its voice was felt as the sun pattered along the concealed blades of your shoulders. It was faint but undeniably familiar, for it was like the return of an old friend and you knew that with its innocent whispers, laid the promises that it was not far from reach.
You hadn't expected to see him here, at the stables just as the sun began to rise with the prospect of a new day to behold. But by all accounts, Thomas Shelby was a man who rose before the sun, somedays, never even going down when it sank the day before. He was left to the mercy of his own mind, not that of the ticking clock or the setting sun. Sleep to Thomas Shelby was neither friend nor foe, but rather one in the same. And by all you'd heard of the Peaky Blinder standing feet away from you now, unbeknownst to your approaching footsteps, he rather preferred to journey what was left of this life on his own.
He appeared out of place, as the sunlight streaked through the wooden posts and wide splinters, casting a bright glow of marigold down upon his shoulders. For he adorned an immaculate suit, one tailored to his body with such perfection that it fit like a glove slipped effortlessly into. He looked out of place amongst the mud and the horses and the poverty of Small Heath, as wealth dyed his pockets and ambition begun to embolden his success.
Thomas Shelby was moving up in the world, he was making a name for himself and for his family, but here he was, back home, in the stables as though he'd never left at all. There was something oddly poignant about the way he looked standing there, however. For even as he stood out like a sore bloody thumb, something about his presence almost felt right, like he was the last missing puzzle piece of this picture of a stable at dawn and he completed the frame completely.
The beams of timid sunlight fell upon him without any hesitancy, bathing the ebony fabric that clothed his frame in the shadows of a man tortured by a past and a present and tormented with the thought of his future. It was a stark contrast and yet, the hue refused to clash like lightning and thunder might roll through a stormy sky. They merely intertwined with one another, as though the light of the morning's newly risen sun, knew Thomas once. And the darkness of his attire and icy demeanor, welcomed in the light like it hadn't seen the sight for ages.
