Quiet Time

As was his ritual, a kindly-looking old man would arrive at the same park bench at precisely the same time each day. The man would sit quietly, whittling on a piece of wood, acknowledging passersby with a simple wink or a nod — but never a word. And then, exactly one hour after his arrival each day, the man would quietly leave. After observing him for several months, a hot dog vendor asked the old man about his daily routine.

”Young man,” he said with a wink, “after being married for fifty-five years, eight months, two weeks and four days, I believe a man is entitled to at least one hour a day of peace and quiet!”

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