Bottle Caps

After living in the city for a few years, I felt like I was finally adjusting pretty well. My job was tolerable, even enjoyable at times. I made enough to have a modest amount of spending money. On weekends, there was a park nearby that I liked to take walks in. It wasn’t a particularly beautiful park, but it was good for people watching. After a few weekends, I noticed an old man always sitting on the same bench under a large tree. Something about his presence seemed incongruous with the rest of the park, though I couldn’t really say why. He always had the same expression on his face, which neither seemed happy nor particularly sad.
          
One day, I made up my mind to go talk to him. This was unusual for me because I typically wouldn’t go out of my way to meet new people, let alone a stranger in the park. I was proud of myself for even having the thought. As I walked up to the bench, the old man glanced over long enough to notice me, then his eyes quickly went back to staring off in the distance. If he was looking at anything, I couldn’t say what it was.
          
“Hello. I see you here all the time, so I thought I’d come say hi,” I said.
          
He didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t do anything that made it seem like I was bothering him, so I continued.
          
“Have you lived in the city for a while? I just moved here a few years ago.”
          
Again, he made no motion. It was at this point that I noticed something that I couldn’t have seen from far away while on my walks. Sitting next to him was a small box with what looked like bottle caps inside of it. There couldn’t have been more than a handful in there.
          
“Is that a collection?”
          
No motion.
          
“…not much to it,” I said with a slight laugh.
          
“There used to be more…” he responded, as if talking to himself.
          
I thought about that for a moment, then turned to look out in the distance along with the old man. I noticed the sun was setting and decided I’d better get going.
          
“Well… it was nice talking to you.”
          
After a brief silence, I started to walk away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the old man take a bottle cap out of the box and put it in his pocket.

--
          
The following week came and went as normal. Work was busy, but I managed to get everything finished that I needed to. I shouldn’t say finished, really. One of the main differences between having a real job and being in college is that you never really finish anything. No matter how much you do, there is still more work waiting for you the next day… the next week… the next year. At least, in college, the classes end. You get a degree. You accomplish something.
          
On Friday night, I saw a movie with friends. It was one of those typical dumb comedies, but I laughed anyway. Sometimes whether or not you like a movie is wholly dependent on who you watch it with.
          
It was pretty much a normal week except for one thing. I couldn’t stop thinking about my conversation with the old man. It wasn’t a particularly fruitful meeting. I wasn’t even sure if he enjoyed talking to me. But for some reason, I found myself looking forward to my walk in the park more than usual.
          
I arrived at the park and started out on the same path I’d taken countless times before. Walking slower than normal, I watched the breeze move lightly through the treetops, as if it were somehow afraid of breaking them. Off in the distance, the birds were singing a song that seemed strangely familiar.
          
As I rounded the corner, I smiled and turned in the direction of the large tree. Looking down, I saw that the bench beneath the tree sat empty, save for a small box, turned on its side, facing out into the distance.