Step by step he makes his way across the walk to stop and stare blankly at the looming step before him. The crowd bumbles forth; shoes stepping, voices yelling. Yet he sits unscathed. I wonder if in traveling to such a place he had planned to journey with death. Or maybe it was just another trip to the grass that had brought him to this dangerous stair. Regardless his small frame still standing erect and his feet still scuffling against the cement, cool with the brisk morning air, proved that luck had certainly passed his way.
I pass and do not step on him either.
Countdown: 9 days
1 comment:
I would have skipped him too, imagine the crunching noise and ensuing mess on the bottom of your shoe had you had a slight mis-step and squashed him? ew! :) Wonderful writing, you have such a great talent!
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