It was a cheerful day. Even thought the morning had just begun, and the sun was just beginning to rise in the almost cloudless sky. I could barely not look at the sky pass the buildings. It's bright red colors made my heart fill with joy.
I had almost passed the grand sky scraper that was my work place, since my head had been high. But the man in front of me stopping so suddenly brought me back to the ground and made me stop. He was looking at the bench that sat alone between the building, and the next. The beautiful pot of flowers that use to be there now gone, having been broken by pass mistakes. A slight bit of sorrow I had from the thought of the flower pot was quickly replaced with the happiness of knowing a new one was coming. One to replace the old one, and fix the mistakes of the pass.
People passed us were we had stopped to look at the building. They were all sad, and or indifferent to the joyfulness that glistened over us, like the light before the sunsets. I took a look up at the building as I went to the door. It towered above me, and touched the brighty lit sky before rising higher. To sky that was much more gentle. The building itself was a solf grey with a soothing feel.
I held the door for a sorrowful looking man. Giving a questioning look to him, after seeing his expression was filled with grief. I continued to my office, starting my day as I would. Putting the joys of life behind me. Sadly I could not let this be a distraction, luckily it was only for a bit.
YOU ARE READING
Perspective
Ficção HistóricaA story of loss, and gain. With many surprising twists, two lives with be intertwined unknowingly. The lives of two fathers during the 1940's, in the United States, as they do their best for their families during the harsh, and fearful times of wa...
