I drove to Texarkana earlier than usual to meet someone who needed a prescription I’d gotten filled for him. As I neared the city limits, the light flashed ‘empty’ on my dash. Perfect, now I needed gas in my car. Something I wait forever to do, not just on Sundays So, I exited at the next off-ramp, my exit anyway, to reach my toothache friend.
Across the street, as I sat at the light, a six-foot skinny, older gent with a limp walked across the top of the bridge as I waited to turn left. It was 7:40 a.m., so I wondered who he might be or where he might live. And I couldn’t stop watching him. He struggled to maintain his balance with each step of that right leg. Yet, he carried a backpack and a small sack. And he kept going, limp by limp. Onward.
At the gas station, which sat right close to a fast food place on the other side of the bridge, I decided that if he got closer, I’d visit him. At least to see if he’s hungry. He turned my way, went inside the gas station’s store, and left without a purchase. Or so it seemed. He wasn’t in there long enough to buy much, if anything. Yes, I’m still watching him from the gas pumps.
