John Rogers

Thin Air

The day started out just like most weekdays. I got dressed, had breakfast, grabbed my backpack and headed out the door. I took my usual route to the streetcar, walking briskly around Lafayette Cemetery No.1 and past the park benches where I would always see the woman I refer to as the “friendly park bench lady.” For the past two years I’ve seen her on my morning commute, sitting on the same bench, in the same spot, writing in her same little black book. I would always nod and say hello, and she would always reward me with a friendly wave and a delightful smile. This morning however, I was surprised to find her missing from my morning routine. Staring for a moment at her usual spot, I noticed that she had left her familiar black book there on the bench. I quickly scanned the area to try and locate her, but she was nowhere to be found. For her to have forgotten her precious book seemed unlikely and made me feel quite strange. I made a split-second decision to grab it and keep it in my backpack until I could return it safely to her.