Jump Start Your Writing Challenge – A trivial event
Rory C. Keel
Yesterday the old man wore a red-checkered flannel shirt accented by cream-colored suspenders. Every day as regular as a clock ticks, he sat on the south end of the forest-green bench in the park across the street from the café.
The day before, he shuffled in a slower pace than usual toward his regular sitting place and wiped the seat with a handkerchief, which he pulled from the back pocket of his wrinkled tan pants. After he stuffed the rag back into his pocket he turned and eased himself onto the bench and watched the children play.
Two days earlier, he wiped his seat and opened a small brown paper sack and produced a peanut to befriend a gray bushy tailed squirrel.
The morning before that he sat and tossed small pieces of bread from his sandwich to the pigeons that flocked around him.
Earlier in the week, a young girl pushing a stroller stopped to rest and sat on the other end of the bench. The old man removed his hat, revealing a gray head, a gesture of politeness long forgotten by a youthful generation. She opened the hood of the stroller to show the gentleman its precious cargo. He smiled.
Today, the south end of the forest green bench in the park across the street from the café is empty.