The peaceful yet boring days were rudely interrupted by the arrival of an unusual individual. An old man that chose to cross the river rather than the bridge. This would be understandable if he was far away from the bridge or tried to leap over. Understandable is not a word that could be attached to this man. At the point where he was crossing, the bridge was pretty much right next to him. It was like he had something against bridges in general.

As he crossed, he swore the whole time about how cold the water was, bridges, and an annoying voice. A crazy person for sure. Hopefully, he’ll be interesting enough to pass the time. Halfway across the river, he shouted something about not being crazy while flailing about. Poor guy must’ve gone through some bad experiences. Not as bad as the stuff the rock has gone through, but it must’ve been bad. Bullying most likely.

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At this point, the old man had almost completely crossed the shore and started mumbling about bullying. Right on the mark, it seems. So predictable. And since he was crazy, it was easy to confirm speculations. The situation was fun. Until, he finished crossing the river.

Water dripped onto the ground as the old man walked over and stood in front of the rock. It looked straight at the rock. Could it be? No, it couldn’t be. It must have been a coincidence. Other humans have paid attention to the rock in similar ways before moving onto something else nearby. Why would this situation be any different? Why was this so exciting?

“What was all that about me being crazy? You’re just a rock; you have no right to criticize.”