You know, if I decide to cross the road now, I might just get a ticket to heaven. May be hell. Doesn't matter. The point is: I might get famous. People might start asking a question like 'Why did that man cross the road?'. Makes sense right? Think about it. I'm just a man holding a bag of groceries standing beside you, you know what I mean right?...Yet I decide to cross the road.
That was a man on his routine. He goes to the store, gets groceries, goes home and writes it in his diary. He tells me buying groceries for his family has become his emotional job. He was born in a place that currently does not exist and that he was raised by a slum-dweller. He never knew what a city is about. He was brought to the city by a person who is now dead but taught him the value of help. So all he knows it go to shop, buy groceries, feed himself and his owner's dog - his dog, Matey. That was his family. But today happened to be the day of his life.
He held a bagful of dog food and medicines for his dog; his dog staring at the inevitability of death.
He owns the store. He spends time flipping pages of The History of your city to know where he came from. He has no memory of a slum. He describes the city. He spends time writing a character-sketch of his owner, the man who brought him to the city. He writes about his customers and friends at the store. Today he would write about the death of his dog; his only hope dying its death.
He crossed the road anyway. He turned back, his hope surprisingly renewed. He then waved good-bye to Death.
He wrote, Today, I talked to Death before crossing the road. He had no intention of taking Matey away. Matey's possible death triggered a fear of my own death. I thought I would get hit by a car, leaving Matey helpless during his final moments. But I got to feed Matey; he ate and looked alive. It is like Death lived.
This day is a cross. For I feared and won. Yet, I shouldn't have. For now, my family is alive.