I leave for work every morning right as the sun starts to show its orange rays. Everyone embracing the sun and hustling to work and family and beginning their day, happily. Except for this poor worn out man who rounds the corner every day and slumps to the ground at the same time as if he is the garbage being taken out by a coffee shop, everyday the same time.
As he fell to the ground with the red rose he began to speak. From inside my car's windows I could not hear a sound but what he mouthed was cheerful. He was talking to someone he loved. This seemed so peculiar to me I had to mention it to someone; I told my dad later that evening.
My fingers dialed the phone as usual to my father to tell him about my day. I told him about the man, and the rose, and his slumping to the wall and the street corner. That is when my father spoke softly and sighed. He said to me, “That is Carter Robinson, at that corner on this day he was driving to work just like you do. His wife decided to come with to see his new job he was so excited about. At that corner he was too busy looking over at his wife, young and excited for the future. That’s when the light turned red and a car hit the passenger side.”