Today was a rare day indeed, for the old man had decided to venture into the streets. The old man hated the streets. They were filled with young Hooligans telling grand tales of silly adventures and people standing on soap boxes trying to have some sort of discussions with others, questioning everything they can about life. There was the announcements of new mafia crews being set up – the old man found those particularly amusing. Still, the police always tended to look the other way and the information from the streets seemed to not be used by local authorities to take people down.

 
Still, the old man was pushing 90 and knew his time was short in this world. He had already outlived just about everything and everyone he’d ever cared about. Living until 90 was rare thing to do indeed. On the spur of the moment he’d decided to have a soapbox moment of his own.

 
Waddling into the street, his cane tapping away on the pavement as his old bones carried him forward, he stopped when he found a soapbox situated nicely on a relatively busy corner. After a few attempts at climbing up on the box, the old man gave up and simply sat on it instead. Looking around at the busy streets, people rushing one way or the other, he cleared his throat a few times, trying to get some attention. This inadvertently caused a coughing fit, the old man bringing a handkerchief to his lips as his body shook from the coughing. He looked back up after a moment, grumbling to himself quietly. Not many people wanted to pay attention to an old man covered in wrinkles and gray hair. He pulled out a pocket watch to check the time again and then put the watch again. Finally, he decided to just start talking and maybe someone would stop and listen. 

“Today, I want to talk about time. How much time is too much? Does time go fast or slow? In my experience, and I have quite a lot of it as you can see, I've come to realize that time seems to move so slow when you’re young. The very young dream of being older. They rush into adulthood. The young live day-by-day thinking that nothing could ever go wrong. You overcome difficulties, celebrate your success, and move on, forgetting that as each day passes you get a little bit older. And as you get older, you begin to realize that maybe, just maybe, time is moving a little faster. Suddenly you don't know where the time has gone. Your children are growing or have grown. You begin to feel the affects of your age on your body. When you're young, you always believe that there is a tomorrow. That you have so much time to accomplish the hopes and dreams that you want to accomplish. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm going to get started on that project! Next week I'm going to start that paper. I’m gonna get that business opened, next week. Or next month. But once you become an old man like me, you realize that there aren't that many tomorrow's left.”

Another coughing fit stopped him, and he stopped for a moment to gather himself back up. 

“Nothing is ever actually promised in this world of ours. You may not actually get a tomorrow. I don't really know what I'm trying to get at right now, while speaking out here sitting on this soapbox. The streets are filled with so many young minds, I guess I just want to know what people think about time. Do you even think about time at all? Or do you think that tomorrow is simply another day? Do you realize that every day is a blessing and take advantage of that opportunity? Or do you keep putting things off for another day, one that might never come?"

"When you're an old and grumpy man like me, you think about time all the time. When your kids are grown and have moved away, and no one comes to visit, mostly because they're all dead, time becomes the only thing you have left. Time to sit and time to think. Time to ponder the meaning of things. Time to wonder what's happened in the world. Time time time, that’s all I have these days. And then there are the days when I simply think that I've had too much time. Maybe my time has run out and it's time for me to move on. I think that all the time. But it doesn’t do me much good because I’m still here.” 

The old man glanced around, wondering if anyone was even paying attention. His speech had nothing to do with their world. There was no questions of crime or death or adventure. Only talk of time. Still, he’d told himself he would do this at least once before time took him, so he kept going. 

“So, I have decided to come out here to observe a little and listen to what you young people think about time. Hopefully some of you will humor an old man with a response.”

Tammy had heard the words the old man shared, though other more pressing matters can the be before she could constructively respond to him. She was saddened to learn that he had since passed away. She walked the streets, searching, all the while thinking of everything she had wished she said while the man was still around. The sound of her heeled ankle boots arrived before she did, though eventually, she stood by an old, empty soapbox. She sat upon it, wistfully wishing that she had acted sooner.

"Old man, you brought up an interestin' one. One I wish I had time ta' discuss with you."

A half smile broke on her face as she realised the irony in her words.

"I was goin' to ask the context, as you seemed to raise a very general point. I suppose the response that was drfitin' around in me' noggin can still be applied to a general point, or one more suited to this world."

She took out a note which comprised of two pages, it was old and handwritten. Her fingers gently caressed them with an obviously deep connection. 

"My father wrote these words, the first with tha' time he thought he'd have to deliver them in the proper environment, the second I found he had been writin' the moment he was killed. It seems he was taken from this world before he had a chance ta' commit them to print."

She sniffled, all the while wishing she had been more accepting of him when she had the time. 

"But this isn't about him, it's about tha' man in the letters. See, from what I understand, there was this fella. He had an idea, and that was to offer somethin' different to the world that he worked in. Through many trials and smart decisions, he worked himself into a position to bring about those changes and oversee them ta' fruition.

"From what I gather from tha' letter, he knew when his time was due. I suppose there's only so much you can do ta' nurture an idea, before ya' want to see if it stands the test of time. My father havin' worked closely with him, appears to have been charged with deliverin' his message to the world."

She collects herself and lays the letters out for all to see, before glancing around curious to see if anyone was indeed paying attention again.

"So you see old timer, time for these pair was the ultimate test. I suppose only know if we've made good use of our time, in this life and others, by the lastin' impact we make, the state of the reputation we leave behind and the treatment of our sons n' daughters. 

"None of which we'll ever know, as we are lost to time itself."