The little boy stopped in the middle of the boulevard, on the double yellow line between the speeding two-way traffic, and just stood there. It seemed like nobody was aware of him except maybe the drivers in their split-second glance as they sped past, wondering if they had really seen what they thought they’d seen. All of a sudden an elderly man stepped off the curb and began hobbling into the path of oncoming traffic. The sound of squealing brakes stabbed the air as cars screeched to a halt and the man continued hobbling across the lanes. He made it to the center, took the little boy’s hand, and together they crossed back to safety, to where the old man had begun. Still holding hands, they walked farther away from the busy road and entered a nearby park, into which they soon disappeared entirely to any who may have been watching. The traffic had resumed and the only ones who would retain a memory of the elderly man and the little boy were the passing motorists who would arrive home with a story to tell their families around the dinner table that night.
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