A Story A Day. Story 153 of 365: Birthday.

Birthdays were always a special day for Phil. He always looked forward to his birthday and loved celebrating his friends'. One could say it was his favorite holiday, even if it wasn't. He was turning thirty that year, and he felt he needed to celebrate harder than ever. His friends had thought about a surprise party, but that would have spoiled half of the fun for Phil. He had been planning his birthday party for months, and had sent the invitations with weeks in advance so everyone would save the date. 

The day arrived and Phil woke up early to check his mobile phone for birthday messages. He wouldn't open them, though, he always preferred to wait until late at night to read them. Even in hus thirties he was still like a five-year-old boy. He had taken a free day at work, and he basically stayed at home during the whole day, eating his favorite things, napping and answering congratulation calls. He also called the restaurant and the baker to make sure everything was ready. Nothing would ruin his special day. He had his friends met at the restaurant half an hour before he was going to show up, just to make sure he wouldn't have to wait for anyone. He got ready and dressed in new clothes, he was nervous, pacing up and down his living room until it was time to leave. 

The restaurant was on the beachfront so he decided to walk from his home up in the hills to the dinner party. The weather was cool and pleasant, an early spring day. He smiled to the people he crossed on the street, wanting to share his happiness. He took the longest path possible, just to be able to walk next to the beach longer and smell the ocean. The seagulls greeted him, and deep into the ocean he saw some fish jumping up and down. The beach walk was full of people taking profit of the last hours of sunshine. Phil thought they were all celebrating his birthday, what else was there to celebrate? He walked along until he encountered a crowd. The atmosphere was different there. There was tension, there was histerism. He worked his way through until he reached a police cordon. There was smoke in the background and he asked what had happened. A policeman informed him that there had been a gas explosion in a nearby place. His blood froze in his veins, he needed to know whether his friends were alright. He told his situation to the officer. When the agent heard the name of the restaurant, his expression grew grave. Without a word he let Phil in and adressed him to one of the support ambulances, there a psychologist told him, very tactfully that the restaurant were his friends were waiting for him had blown up, and there were no survivors. The world stopped for Phil on that exact minute. All of his friends were dead because of him, no matter what the psychologist said.