The tree stood strong perched on the sidewalk off the road, leaning on a column of a building and in the middle of a staircase. It’s roots stretched onto the steps of the staircase, they were so deep that it made cracks in the coarse-grained granite. Whereas the green leafy branches wrapped around the columns of the building, giving the white paint brownish stains.

It was summer and the tree was sanctuary for the people who walked passed this bustling street under the scorching sun.

A teenage boy walked towards the tree and sat down underneath its leafy covers, he wore dark rimmed glasses, dressed in a white shirt and kaki slacks, topped with a green bowtie . He opened his bento box, inside was rice and fish fillet. He took out a utensil box, opened it and plucked out a spork. As he ate with a spork in one hand, his other hand held a book titled “ Amber Leaves are falling”.

To the left of the boy, a cobbler sat at the steps of the stairs. Thankfully the branches of the tree where long and it stretched out to where the cobbler was and provided him cover. The cobbler sat on a stool, his hands were dark, covered in rubber grease. At the side of his mouth, rested a soggy lit cuban cigar. As he puffed away, his eyes caught sight of the boy’s book, he was curious but he knew he hadn’t had the knowledge to understand literature so he minded his business.

It was winter, cold but humid, no snow and no frost. The boy sat underneath the tree, this time he hid behind its trunk, as it shielded him from the harsh gusts of wind. He wore a blue knitted sweater with a white undershirt and kaki slacks. On his lap, was a bento box, inside was rice and fish fillet. He scooped a mouthful of rice with one hand and in his other hand was a book titled “ Winter is coming”. To his left, the cobbler sat at the steps of the stairs. He wore an old wrinkled brown leather jacket, jeans and topped it off with a black peak flat cap. He puffed away at his cigar. Soon the cold was unbearable and he moved to sit under the tree, just a little beside the boy. The boy’s book yet again caught the cobbler’s eye and his curiosity was aroused again. 

Spring came and the cold subsided, however it was still cool. The sun provided a soothing warm and its rays illuminated the beautiful streets. The boy sat underneath the tree, this time he did not hide behind its trunk, he sat in front of it facing the street. His sweater was replaced by a blue shirt with a green bowtie and he wore kaki slacks. On his lap, was a bento box, inside was rice and fish fillet however this time he had a tumbler filled with pipping hot coffee by his side. In his hand was a book titled “ Where flowers bloom . “ The cobbler sat at his new spot, underneath the tree and just beside the boy, as usual he puffed away at his cigar. His eye glanced towards the boy and saw the title of his book. The cobbler found the courage to speak to the boy and his first words were “ Hey kid, you like flowers ?”

“ Not really…” the boy replied.

And there was silence, and they never talked again.