A man took a walk before lunchtime on a Tuesday. Passing through the empty park, he watched a stranger on a bench silently collapse onto the ceramic autumn ground. Instantly he rushed over, fingers ghosting the emergency number in his phone, but the fallen stranger, more than okay, laughed like a raving child. Anger filled him, relief drained him–then our walker folded over, too, hysteric with joy, the distant clouds scattering behind the dying, gilded boughs.



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