Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
The man with distinguished gray hair wears tan loafers, navy slacks, a powder blue dress shirt under a brown vest. He looks dashing, and he’s sweeping. He clears cigarette butts, discarded paper, water, and leaves from the gutter half a block away from his taxi stand. He seems lost in the motion of the broom, perhaps dazed by the early hour, and immersed in the routine of setting up for work. The head of the broom is made of a collection of branches and twigs from a tree. So he’s scattering needles and tiny branches as he cleans, leaving a trail. I suppose this is like so many of our daily tasks–in completing them we begin again.