I’m sitting at a table covered by an umbrella in the courtyard of an outdoor shopping center.
There’s a flowing fountain surrounded by flowers and folks on vacation who can’t stop taking photos.
I’m armed with a venti iced coffee and there’s an old man at the adjacent table who traded reading his newspaper for people-watching.
This could easily be me in forty years.
I hope he had a good life so far.
I hope I have no regrets at the end of mine.