Reader's Digest 9月号の記事 "Life in these United States" からの引用です。
I often took walks along New York City's East River on early summer mornings. Every day, I'd see the same older man sitting on the same bench, gazing wistfully out onto the water. One morning, I decided to talk to him. "Hellow," I said, "I don't mean to bother you, but I see you here every day."
"Is that right?" he said.
"I was curious why you sit on this same bench?"
He turned away with a deep sigh. "My wife and I used to sit on this bench together for 51 years."
"Oh," I said, feeling badly. "I'm sorry."
"And for some bizarre reason she likes to sit over there now," he said, gesturing toward a woman 20 feet to the left of us.
I often took walks along New York City's East River on early summer mornings. Every day, I'd see the same older man sitting on the same bench, gazing wistfully out onto the water. One morning, I decided to talk to him. "Hellow," I said, "I don't mean to bother you, but I see you here every day."
"Is that right?" he said.
"I was curious why you sit on this same bench?"
He turned away with a deep sigh. "My wife and I used to sit on this bench together for 51 years."
"Oh," I said, feeling badly. "I'm sorry."
"And for some bizarre reason she likes to sit over there now," he said, gesturing toward a woman 20 feet to the left of us.
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