"He looks so sad," I thought as I walked to the graying man sitting on the park bench. As I neared him, I spoke, "Hello, I'm Lily." Yes, I know you're not supposed to talk to strangers, but he seamed so harmless and distraught and I wanted to help.
"Oh, hello," he calmly replies.
"I couldn't help but notice you seemed a little sad. Is everything okay?" I kindly questioned.
The man looks away and sighs, "No, not really. I think I just did something terrible."
"What do you think you did, sir? Sorry I didn't didn't get your name," I said sort of distracted by a miraculous red bird flying behind the man's head.
"I'm Daniel Jones. You can call me Dan," he replies then stares off looking terrified and worried.
"Well, Dan, may I ask what has gotten you looking as if you've seen a ghost?" I asked and as the expression on his face changes, I wish I chose better words.
"I think I killed my wife, Mary!" Dan blurts out as the tears cover his face.
YOU ARE READING
The Old Man on the Bench (short story)
Short StoryLily is just walking through the park when she sees an old man that seems distressed. She goes and has a conversation with this man that takes a bit of an unexpected turn. Once this man finds out the truth, what does that mean he has done? Find out...
