I was sitting on a bench by the river studying on a perfect April day, the sun was shining warm upon my skin and a gentle breeze occasionally rifled the pages laid out around me. Engrossed in the course-work laid out before me I was unaware of the little old man wandering along the pathway until he was beside me on the bench.

“Morning,” he said cheerfully as I glanced up at him from my books.

“Morning”, I replied and watched as the little old man sat down on the end of the bench, a beautiful bouquet of roses wrapped in twine filling his withered hands. I moved some of my books to allow him more room but he never moved and seemed happy just to sit in his spot watching the river glide past. After 10 minutes, the old man stood and walked towards the little bridge going over…