He's the 3010 black man. Standing and staring at the door of his white Mercedes CLR. Coffee in his left hand, his suit's jacket draped over his left arm. He does this every morning. She sees him day dream about his life for 10 minutes before he's on his way to work. What's he thinking about so intently? He shouldn't look so depressed, he's one of the lucky ones. Sure, his credit's bad, his baby's mother just left him and he's not entirely sure if he's the father of his children. But he saw it coming! We re-live the lives of our ancestors. At least he's not going to find out if his kids really belong to him on some talk show. "Get to work, Mr. Johnson," She yells from her window. She gets a kick out of waking him up out of his stupor.
They speak for 2 minutes about the economy and all that adult stuff. Their boring conversation always turns into a dangerous flirting session. He's attractive. Its a shame her family didn't date outside of their race. Its a shame there's no freedom in this world. She could take him out of the misery he's in. She could bring a smile to his face for more than the five minutes they spend flirting every morning. They say their goodbyes. He waves and flashes that pearly white smile of his. She watches the car leave before she turns from her window to start getting ready to start her day. But not before reading his only bumper sticker: Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it...but is it possible to know too much of our history, to the point that it hinders our future?
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