sandcastles
Something I wrote some time ago...
'I'd never really noticed the sunset out here before.'
The old man stopped briefly to look back at the guy on the bench. His arms were stretched out along the back as he gazed out over the water and into the setting sun. The old man desperately hoped he wasn't trying to start a conversation. There wasn't anyone else around. He mumbled something under his breath and went back to work collecting the daily refuse by the seaside.
'It's really quite something. You know, I drive by here every day and I never bothered to look out there. It's amazing what you miss.' He paused. 'I used to think I didn't have the time to take something like this in. I just had to keep on going and couldn't afford to bother with such unimportant things.'
A gust of wind blew up, sweeping his tie over his shoulder. He closed his eyes, letting the cool breeze blow across his face. The old man was studiously ignoring him.
'Perspective, I suppose. It took quite a bit to shake me up -- make me notice what I was missing. By then it was too late, of course. No point in dwelling on it, I suppose. I just have to get on with it. This time, though, I'm going to take the time to notice things. Like sunsets.'
The wind picked up again. The old man had to struggle to keep his hat on. 'It's getting late,' he said, not looking at the man on the bench.
'Yes, it is.'