There was a man who never did anything extraordinary at all. He was born, then went to school, and there he made some friends. Some of the boys and girls that he met went onto great things, but he was never close enough to any of those friends that that greatness spilled over into his own life. He was average looking, of course, and he had average looking girlfriends, who didn’t let him get past second base for the longest time. He lost his virginity in college, where somehow the underwear flies off freely. (It must be some sort of magic.) He met the girl he was going to marry in college, definitely not unheard of. Though they lived together a couple years after they graduated to be on the safe side. He was gainfully employed from the time he got out because he had been a summer intern at the place where he was hired. There he met some work friends who for some reason didn’t feel as special than the ones he met in school. His first child was born before he was thirty, the second before he was thirty-five. A boy and a girl, of course. His job was a good one, he progressed up the ladder at a regular rate. The children grew up and he wondered where the time goes. He loved a lot, he hated some. He knew the meaning of the word, “home”. The children grew up and found lives for themselves, and he grew old with his wife beside him, living in the house they had bought all those years ago. He lived a completely ordinary life, the years all having gone by at a rate of an hour per hour, a mile per mile. And then, lying there with his loved ones all around, he closed his eyes for the last time… amazed at it all.
