As I was walking down the street one day in the beginning of fall something caught my eye. It was a small, pale blue flower. I don't know why it caught my eye, maybe because it was the only one, maybe because everything around it was starting to wither and it still showed signs of life. It stood straight, as if trying to portray the image of being strong and resisting the winter. I began to think of how many other people had noticed this flower. The rich man, the beggar. The child, the old man who walked aimlessly around town for days. I must have stood there for an hour, staring at the flower. I didn't understand why this thing, no bigger than a rock, fascinated me so much. The beginning of darkness was starting to show, so I started off on my walk home. As I was walking away, I would look back every now and then, and see the flower become smaller and smaller, until it disappeared. I went back a couple of days later, and it was gone. Even though it was only a flower, it meant something more to me. I felt an emptiness again which the flower, in some way, had seemed to fill. c