It was a lovely walk, with the sun rising in a pool of crimson and gold, spilling light all over the land. The scenery of the park was extremely mesmerizing and breathtaking. The water in the park glistened invitingly and the birds were chirping to my favorite song. As a way to release stress, it was a must for me to jog in the morning every weekend around the park, which was stone’s throw away from my house. The park held many memory as it was where me and my parents used to have picnic together when I was little. My stomach growled when the aromatic smell of fresh baked buns that sat comfortably in a basket belonging to a family, which was having a quality time together, reached my nose. My heart sank with nostalgia as I recalled the joys of my childhood.
As I slowed down my momentum to take a deep breath of fresh air, I saw a familiar old man, clad in a ragged t-shirt and tattered shorts, Judging from his unkempt hair, he looked as if he had not showered or changed his clothes in months. The scars on his face spoke of his untold stories, which will permanently etched in his memory, just like how his scars disfigured him for life. He smiled jauntily when I greeted him. Picking up tins, bottles and papers was the only way he could earn money for a living. By looking at how he had lived his life, many people pitied him and thought that his life was full of hardship, as he had to survive on such pittance since his children had left him. However it was not the case. Ironically, even though his pay was not as lucrative as mine, he was happy and contented with his life. This made me realized how fortunate and ungrateful I was with my life. Out of the blue, a loud scream pierced through the air, disrupting my peaceful jog.
“Help! Help! Someone please help me!’’ shouted a woman from across the junction.
Without any second thought, the old man ran to where the voice was coming from. Out of curiosity, I followed him. I stood rooted to the ground and shook my...
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