It was a normal day. I was walking to work, it is a walk that I enjoy mostly because of the faces. See, I have this gift, I have had it for as long as I can remember. With this gift I can see a person’s past. The longer I look at them the more I see, so as people pass me on the street of the big city I get to learn new things, experience new things. This day was no different, until I saw him running towards me.
As I saw was his face, his past, I saw him struggling in school. I saw him moving from foster home to foster home. I felt his pain of never knowing his real parents, I saw him running from an abusive foster parent and joining the gangs. I saw and felt his pain as he watched his brother closing his eyes for the last time. I saw his wedding day, one of the happiest days of his life, I also saw him raising his children. Lastly, I saw him sitting beside a hospital holding a small boy’s hand, telling him it would be alright. The child’s pale lips formed a small strained smile as he heard his father’s voice.
I witnessed the pain of knowing that he could not help the boy, knowing the bills would be too large. Yet, also knowing that something, anything, most be done. He could not bear the pain of losing his youngest like he had lost his brother. Suddenly I was taken out of this trance when I realized that he was closing on me extremely fast. As he got closer, the yelling of the police and the screaming around me seemed to fade into a small hum. I looked around me, the colors of the city seamed to whirl and mix onto a dull spinning vortex of color.
I turned back to face the runner. He almost seemed frozen in mid movement. His motions were slower but still had all the power of a huge spring. With every step it would compress and hold there for a moment then  propel him forward with incredible power. I could see the look in his eyes, we has looking at the faces. he knew most would stand there looking at him in confused wonderment, but some, some were there waiting to strike, like a cobra coiled in the grass, waiting for him to pass near enough to strike. As he got close enough for me to stop him, I found myself raising my arms to do that very thing. But it was not me doing it. I was not in full control of my body it was the part of your brain that tells me you to fit in, to do what you’re told, to be like everyone else. It was in control of my arms. Something inside me e was yelling and screaming at me, it was my conscious, it was telling me to stop to put my arms down. To let him go and save his son. Then suddenly I found myself sinning as I hit the ground, the dull vortex of color was gone and I could hear all the normal noises of the city around me. Now all I saw was the runner with police not far behind, but I knew they could not stop him, he knows this city too well: every road, ally, and building of this concrete jungle