Bob held his head in his hands. He sat on a bench in Central Park, tears building up in his eyes. His boss, Ferdinand Hernandez, had sent him to New York to facilitate a merger between their company and another. He’d done such a poor job, in his stress, that they were now hesitant to continue. And back home, he’d been having troubles with his wife, Elaina, and she’d told him to not come back home or a few days after his trip. When he returned to Phoenix, he’d have to stay in his parent’s garage, which was awkward, uncomfortable, and frankly, pathetic.

A tear escaped him.

A bush nearby rustled.

Bob glanced up, and saw green eyes under a bushy head of brown hair staring at him from behind some of the foliage. It was a little boy. He held the boy’s eyes for a moment, and then wiped away the tear.

The boy, still behind the bush, called out to him.

“What’s wrong, mister? What made you cry?”

Bob laughed, surprised at this strange little boy.

“Things aren’t doing so well in life,” he said, “How are you doing, kid?”

“Good,” the boy said, “Mr. Haman isn’t here.”

“Mr. Haman?”

“Yeah, Mr. Haman’s mean. He yells a lot, and does other mean stuff.”

“Ah,” Bob wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“And sometimes the other kids take my stuff. So it’s my favorite when we go to park and I don’t have to see them for a bit.”

“It’s nice to get some time to yourself,” Bob said. That was what he’d come to Central Park for, after all, to clear his head.

“Yeah,” the kid said.

“What’s your name, kid? Mine’s Bob Howardson.”

“I’m Tony.”

“Tony’s a nice name,” Bob said.

“Thank you, mister,” Tony said, “Are you feeling better now?”

Bob smiled, “Yeah, I think I am. Hey, if you have time, are there any ice cream stores nearby?”

Tony’s expression was wistful, “Yeah, there’s a really yummy looking one nearby, but Mr. Haman’s never let us go.”

“Would you show me where it is?” Bob asked.

“Sure!” Tony hopped up from behind the bush and led them down a pathway. Bob was surprised at how tall the boy was, and how thin.

They came to a a big intersection. They’d come to the edge of the park.

“Come on, Tony, the light’s green!”

Bob and Tony crossed the street. There was a little old fashioned style ice cream cart, like Tony had said, and Bob insisted that Toby order something, as a thank you for showing him how to get there. Bob paid for their orders, a scoop of vanilla cinnamon and swirl for him, and chocolate ice cream in a waffle cone for Tony.

The two walked back to Central Park, the treats slowly melting in their hands.

The bench where Bob had sat in before was available, so the two sat down and enjoyed their ice cream under the sun. Bob’s heart lifted, and the pressures that were so insurmountable before seemed like something he could overcome.

“Thank you, mister Bob,” Tony said.

“No problem, kid,” Bob said, “You really helped me out, I mean it.”

Bob smiled at Tony, who was finishing the last piece of the waffle cone. Bob grimaced. Tony’s face was shmeared with chocolate.

“Hey, before you go, let’s wash up,” Bob said, “I, uh, wouldn’t want Mr. Haman to get upset with you.”

“Oh, thanks mister Bob. That’s a good idea.”

This time, little Tony took Bob’s hand. Bob tconsidered pulling away, but decided not to. Though the little boy’s hand was all sticky and full of chocolate, from what he'd said, he didn't see much affection, ever. It was the least Bob could do for him.

The two crossed the street for third time, and walked into a shop and borrowed their sink. It was time to go.

Bob held Tony’s now clean hand, and waited for the crosswalk to indicate they could safely walk.

The light changed, and Tony grinned up at Bpb.

“Look mister, Bob!” Tony ran into the street, “I can cross all by myself.”

Bob’s shouted, “Tony! No!”

There was a car. It’s acceleration was so fast that Bob could see that as it was breaking, it was going to cross over into the pedestrian walking zone.

Right were Tony had run ahead, to show how big he was.

Time froze.

Bob ran forward and shoved Tony.

There was a screech and a horrific CRACK. And then pain, a most intense kind, one that managed to burn and freeze at the same time, ran through Bob’s body.

Then Tony was above him, his halo of curls framed by the smoggy heavens and skyscrapers.

“Mister Bob?” now tears ran down Tony’s dirt streaked face, so recently cleaned, “Mister Bob?”

“To...ny,” Bob wheezed, and fire raced through his lungs, but he pushed through it, to say, “I was...so...happy meeting you today.”

Bob hoped his wife could forgive him. That his boss would be able to work out the merger.

“Mister Bob! Don’t go! Mister Bob…”

The pain grew worse, and Bob couldn’t answer.

And then, Bob was gone.