The soft mellow tuning of the guitar on the radio was swiftly turned off. It was September 2001, not too long before the attacks. A beautiful song enters the ears of the inners and outers of the morning restaurant, but one man in particular seems to be the best of moods.
Alfred F. Jones, working his normal day. He walks down the streets like he owns them, which he does, waving and smiling at each passerby.
But life isn't the best of things in New York. He enters one of the smaller bars, going in for a quick drink and all.
He passes a woman who meets his sky blue gaze equally, and they stare for a moment. He smiles, she smiles.
He offers her a seat by him, her green eyes sparkle at the offer.
Instead of a quick drink, the time in the bar quickly extended from a minute to an hour.
Time passes quickly through their conversation, and he learns more about her being.
She's struggling here in the states, and she makes the best of it by watching the American dream in strangers. Whether it's passing strangers or little children.
Alfred clasps her hand and kisses it, his newfound companion needing to tend back to work. Life isn't easy when you come to America with nothing.
Alfred steps out of the bar, thinking of the conversation they shared.
He says to himself, 'If I could be like that, if I could give anything for my dreams, what would I do?' He asks, looking around. He no longer gives high fives and smiles.
Instead, he gives handshakes and wishes of goodwill, and money. To make sure they have what they need.
What they need to achieve the American dream.
No longer is there suffering if he could just be like that.
Years later, wearing the scars from the attacks, he sees a familiar pair of green eyes.
And long last, hands and arms and bodies meet in a way that makes Alfred wish that he could be more like that.
First of all, this story it NOT MADE BY ME. It's actually made by Circuit. She asked me to publish it for her. XD
I/We hope you like it! :D