The old mime sat on the park bench. Tufts of gray peeked out beneath his slightly skew beret. The clothes he wore were not quite threadbare, but they had seen at least a couple of years.

He was holding his head in his hands.

When he lifted his head, a little bit of white paint had come off and he was staring at it and shaking his head slightly.

Then the old mime saw the little boy standing in front of him. He’s maybe five years old thought the mime but I’ve never been good with age.

The little boy just stared at the mime. The old mime stared back.

Then, instead of doing the old stuck in a box or the rope pull actions, the little boy bent down and tied his laces even though they were clearly fastened with velcro strips. The old mime looked at his own shoes and saw his own laces untied. Quickly he tied them and smiled at the boy.

Just then a young woman walked up and called “Dennis, lets go home”

The old mime took the woman’s hand the walked down the gravel path. He turned and saw the boy laughing.