The man sits on a corner table by the front glass window of the coffee house.
He reads, sips his coffee, pause and looks outside.
The man has white hair, a black jacket and a peaceful appearance.
The man stops reading his book and he thinks about existence and life.
“There are no victims in this life, only volunteers.”
“I am not who I think I am; I am not who you think I am.
Who I really am is that man I see in the mirror when I am alone.”
”My problem is my thinking, drinking alcohol is my solution.”
He remains at the corner table of the cafe.
Nevertheless, no ones see him; he died last night.
Only I see him because I am with him or perhaps, I am like him.
No one would ever know, because I am not who you think I am.
Outside the cafe the trees are covered with white flowers blossoms.
-Hector 3/30/2017 USA