Jean-Luc woke up smiling, as he often did. Life was good and there was no reason why it wouldn’t stay that way indefinitely. Even the need to empty his bladder didn’t put a damper on his sunny attitude.
He stood as he did his business, humming a happy tune to match the ring of his urine striking the porcelain. The job done, he washed his hands at the sink, combed his beard and admired his reflection in the mirror. He looked as tan and healthy as ever.
Returning to his bedroom, he pondered what to put on before he went out. He may have been comfortable with his body, but he knew others wouldn’t be. (He had learned the hard way how polite society frowned on public nudity. Even then, he used his time while incarcerated for indecent exposure to make many new friends, putting a positive spin on the experience.)
Eventually, he settled on a pale green tank top and khaki pants, but somehow he felt incomplete even after the addition of two necklaces. (Another thing he was comfortable with was his sexuality -- he could call them necklaces and not feel emasculated.) He scanned the closet until his eyes fell upon the item that he knew would top him off.
Taking down the bright orange hat, he went to the mirror in the hall to watch as he placed it on his head. Yes, it was perfect, as he knew it would be. A look like this, he thought, doesn’t just happen by accident.
Finally ready to face the world, Jean-Luc walked out his front door, wondering where other people found the energy to be sad. But it was a fleeting thought and he went through the rest of the day blissfully unaware that such a thing as sadness even existed.