I sit outside my small rented, house in the city, basking in the sun on the small, parched lawn. My head rests in my palms and my bare legs rest against a tree.I watch as cars of all different colors zoom by, without taking their eyes off the road. We live on a corner with a stop light, and when people stop at the red light (Although some, unfortunately, pass right through it, causing an accident)I watch them. I look at their faces. Their eyes, full of pain, happyness, or just another sleepless night. I look at their top halfs. Busy men and woman in business suits getting to work. Older couples out for a Sunday drive, going slower than the rest of us. busy soccer mom taking the team out to ice cream. these are the people if my corner.

But then, I saw an old car with rust stains, dents, and scratcjhes, a 'it doesn't work right but it gets us places' car. A father driving it. He hasn't shaved for about a week. he is wearing a suit and looks extremely uncomfortable. He wears a scowl on his face and a tie under his neck. A suitcase lies in the back seat, next to a little girl. This girl has tears in her eyes and bruises on her arms. She whipes her nose on her short-sleve shirt.

he father turns around in his seat and yells at her. Tears stream harder. he takes his hairy fist and almost hits her, but then his menacing eyes fall upon me. He stops, and blows the stop sign, trying to avoid my watchful eyes. The little girl crawls closer to my side of the road and turns to face me. She mouths a 'thank you as horns honk at her father's reckless driver as they all swerve to try and avoid a colision.

The light then turns yellow, and then green. I go back inside for lunch, which happens to be a piece of toast with jam on it. I ask my parents if they know any guy with hairy knuckles and a little girl. My father laughs a deep, howl and slapps his fat thieghs saying, "that's most of my friends."

I go back outside to see more people. A lage van that coiuld seat up to eleven or twelve people with an older man driving it. A teenaged asian girl sits in the front with scars upon her face. She is talking and talking, to the blonde in back. She was the same as her, but slightly heavir. She looked out her passenger window, answering the girl up front. She look at me and smiled. I smiled back at her. She knew that I was watching. And she liked that someone was watching over her.