Fredrick’s face resembled a Halloween mask. He worked when he needed to eat and drank when he became sober. He watched people from his sidewalk cardboard box, saw a boy chasing a ball, and a car racing his way.
He rose from his box, a frightening sight.
“Look out, kid.”
Seeing Fredrick’s wobbly approach, the horrified, weeping boy changed direction and escaped body unharmed.
It didn’t work out as well for Fredrick.
Nope.
Fredrick, the Good Samaritan, killed by the car, became a memorial speed bump.
The driver? Carried on.
The kid?
Body intact.
‘Twas a mess inside.
