When Cars Tell Time | Teen Ink

When Cars Tell Time

May 26, 2010
By CrystalDE PLATINUM, Concord, North Carolina
CrystalDE PLATINUM, Concord, North Carolina
24 articles 197 photos 166 comments

So many cars passing by and he just stares at them as the blur of colors come together. His eyes focus and set in as he tries to see the shape of each individual car but, they pass out of the view to quick. Mitchell wonders why his staring threw the glass watching them as they cross the barriers of wall like an old nosey man. He is usually not like this, today it’s like stepping onto another planet and he can’t help that his eyes wonder off into space. He is in a coffee shop but, has no coffee and he has a newspaper. He doesn’t look at the newspaper though but, at the cars. Every now and again he tries to read it but, his head always snaps back up to look at the cars. He pretends to read. Staring out the window he sees a reflection on it. First, there’s a black bag. There’s a leg beside it so he travels up the reflected leg and there’s a wrinkled hand gently lying across a newspaper that lies on a small red table. Mitchell finds a face and some eyes. He can tell that this person is really old, gray headed, weak eyes and the wrinkles agree with him. The man is wearing a white hat with a dark navy jacket. The old man is staring at him, why is he staring at him? Then he realizes it, that it’s him. Wouldn’t you know your own face? He thinks really hard to try and remember his life. You can see this as his forehead creases and he puts his hands over his face. Breathing in deeply he closes his eyes and he remembers a boy’s face. He has a son but, where is he? He taught him how to throw a ball. Mitchell grabs his bag and pulls out a baseball. He rolls it in his hands and then he see’s the name Daniel written on it. Then he remembers. Daniel died before he could even make it to middle school. There was a snow storm and Daniel was close to the road. A car slid and went off the road. It wasn’t the drivers fault or his son’s, it was the weather and his wife die a few years ago because of old age. He has been alone for a while now. His wasted a lot of time, coming here everyday to drink some coffee and read a newspaper. His heart hurts. He wants to cry just staring at those cars. He has no more tears left and his all dried up with wrinkles. He thinks maybe that’s why old people get wrinkles because they’ve used up all their tears. Mitchell looks at the newspaper finally and identifies what’s on the page. It’s a picture of a pitcher throwing a ball and the old man looks at the pitcher’s eyes. He wonders what his son would be like. He gets up while putting the baseball back in his bag and leaves the newspaper behind just were it was. Then as he walks out the door he sees a lady get in a car across the street and he puts his bag on his shoulder. He walks with a limp over the square blocks on the cemented city and puts his cold white hands in his pockets.

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