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Every morning during my drive to work at approximately 7:57 I pass a man on his morning walk. He is a thin old man with a leaning frame. His face is creased with lines of life, and toughened by the Texas sun. He walks briskly up the steep hill on a mission, and in his hand he carries a cigarette. It is such an odd sight. Is he taking a walk for his health? If so the cigarette is certainly not helping. Does his wife not approve of his smoking, but permits brisk morning walks? I wish I could roll down my window and ask what his morning walks are about, to ask what his story is. I love that he is a part of my morning commute. I smile every day at the paradox of it all.

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