Wednesday, April 9, 2014


Each day Forrest would eagerly scan the flower beds in front of his. Standing a stout six-foot-seven, it was hard to miss his extra large frame.
            Despite his size, he possessed an unusual kindness and dexterity, especially when it came to living things. He had several cats, two dogs, goldfish galore, and even a parakeet.
            Most of all though, he loved plants. Trees, shrubs, house plants, wild plants, annuals, perennials—Forrest loved them all.
            If ever a person had been appropriately named it was him.
            He finally made his way to the beds at the end of the driveway. Using his large hands to clear aside accumulated piles of snow plow cinders gave the rounded, waxy tips of daffodil shoots an added boost to be the first of his children to bloom.

            Leo couldn’t stand it anymore.
            His girlfriends had dumped him after finding out he had gotten fired for the fourth time. Worst of all, she still had all sorts of his things still at her house.
            As he pulled out of her driveway, he felt growing unease about what he should do next. He hadn’t talked to his parents in three years and his sister now lived halfway across the country.
            Leo suddenly remembered that his old pal, Skip, had offered him a place to crash if he was ever put out.
            Without a second thought, he pulled out his phone to shoot him a text.
            He never saw the giant of a man crouching by the curb side, nor did he see anything else ever again.
            Leo in his rush, on top of forgetting most of his stuff, had also forgotten his seatbelt.

            That day he learned, in the harshest way possible, how instant karma can really be.

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