He would sit on the bench eating Alexa's blackberry pies.
I would watch him that every Friday. I would wonder why he was alone. I would ask myself, why did he not think to bring an umbrella when it rained? Or sit inside when it stormed? He would munch on that same blackberry pie from Alexa's Bakery that cost $1.99 a piece.
After years of just watching him, I was getting curious. Was that pie just too delicious to not eat every week? So I decided to buy them. They were nice, but not exactly fantastic. But he obviously loved them.
The next Friday, I to Alexa's bakery to buy ALL of those blackberry pies at 13.37pm and ran back home to glimpse out my window. The man didn't walk to the bench to read a book or go to the next bakery to buy another pie but started walking. Instead of walking right to the bench, he walked left. I ran downstairs and followed him. He was walking for ages, past Jenna's Bakery and even past the lake untill he met the graveyard.
The man kneld down cried on the name "Tom Thropen". Died at a young age, 13 years old. I hugged the man. The old thing needed it. Tears ran down his face and I felt his weak muscles trembeling. That poor thing. He whispered," It was every Friday, every godamn Friday we would get some blackberry pie."