“I’m sad,” said Stephanie, stepping towards me as she pulled her jacket up around her neck to fight off the biting cold.

“Why’s that?” I asked, holding out my lighter and igniting her cigarette.

“I’m 36 and alone. All my friends are getting married, and I’m not even dating anyone. All I’m doing is sleeping with a 25 year-old who’s not even close to what I’m looking for.”

“And what part of that makes you sad?”

“All of it,” she said, reaching up to wipe her eyes of a tear that, to me, appeared to be non-existent.

“Well, I suppose a better question would be what makes you think you’re so different from everyone else?”

“I just said, all my friends are getting married and I’m still here by myself. So I’m sad.”

“Who isn’t these days?” Continue reading


A young soon-to-be American was walking down the street of his passport country of England. He was heading from Eton Wick to Windsor, a thirty minute walk along side the road. As he walked,  he saw in the distance a man on a bicycle. He thought little of it, dropped his head, and continued along his way.

Not long into his walk, the young man looked up again to find himself nearly passing the cyclist. As he approached, he realized the man on the seat of his bike, pedaling extremely slowly, was in his early eighties. The young boy, passing on foot, turned and smiled to the cyclist. He said, a smile still upon his face, “It’s strange, passing a cyclist on foot my friend.”

The old man smiled back, bowing his head slightly. “Young man,” said the cyclist, “life is far too short to spend it hurrying from place to place.”



Story based on true events.