Like every other day, I saw him there. I could easily spot him on the other side of the road with the hunched back, and a cane making his way towards the footpath. I knew his slow walking pace could be signs of early onset of dementia. Recollecting my thoughts, I went to greet him with his hands shaking coz of arthritis; He was aging beautifully, I could tell, with just a perfect million dollar smile, waiting for me .That smile was like a reflection, telling me desperately to believe ,”some good still exists in me”, regardless of the glitches eating up my soul with plague”.

Nevertheless, He would never know how much fortunate I feel, just to ease a bit of frown off my brow with mere encounters with him. I know what was coming next; a silent plea for some cents. I could notice him looking me with sudden interest ,what I was going to give him this time; maybe a some handful of cash or just few coins this time. Mainly, he was always contented with what I offered, like a sign of a good omen. Sometimes, I wish he could deduce on his own, the baggage-of- regret I carry, not giving him what he is in actual worthy of. Absorbed with remorse ,I left with yet another promise of a better tomorrow, saying:” I am going to get late for work”.