To live once... But with hope.

Man walks up to a front porch. It is a sunny day.
He puts down his briefcase and looks in to small mirror next to the door. He checks his reflection to make sure all is in order.
He is satisfied.
He brushes some dust off his well pressed shoulders and smiles. He is prepared. He is prepared.
He takes a deep breath and gathers his knuckles for a knock.
He brings his fist to an inch from the door, he brings his fist back-

- he stops.

He immediately puts his fist back down.

He looks in to his reflection. He stares at his eyes. He's an idiot. He shakes his head and goes to knock.

He brings his fist to the door again but sees a weird mark on the back of his hand. He immediately stops to inspect his hand. What is that?
He licks it and upon realization, he smudges off the ketchup stain ferociously.

He looks behind to see if any one saw. A dog did and so did a little child carrying a red ballon. The red ballon floats out of the child's hand who is immediately distracted by the rogue balloon.

The man looks back at his door. Another deep breath. Another fist to the door.

He stares at the door. He just keeps on staring and gets lost in thought. He almost gets dizzy and falls in tot he door.

He takes a step to recalibrate and sees the house's number.

Realization strikes, he shakes his head and immediately picks up his briefcase.

He leaves the front porch and goes to the front porch of the house 2 doors down.



Editor's Note: He got the wrong door- who knows who he might have met incorrectly.