I’ve learned so much giving the time to people on the streets. Each day brings in something new, as if the world is putting handmade candies on the conveyor belt of life: each unique from all other things, but that they are all things. Things that happen. Things that are real. Things that leave a taste in your mouth, one way or another. We know so little of the things we care most about. It’s why I withheld my tongue when I saw you, sir, marching down the pavement with your briefcase in hand, the tie waving from the inside of your pocket. Immediately I could feel the urge to lean over and pull it out, overpowering me like the smell of familiar aftershave and soap. I wanted to loop it around your neck and demand you wear it properly. So much so that, when you asked me the time, I failed my duty; the years had slipped from my fingers and with it went the months, days and hours between when I last held a tie and now. I watched your back push past me, recede, fade, searching for someone else with a watch. I watched you until you were nothing at all. And then I went home, and I made dinner, and I spent another Chinese New Year fatherless.