A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry. Write the scene from three different points of view: from the perspective of the man, then the woman, and finally the old woman.
The Man couldn’t believe his eyes. In the hands of an old woman was a red sweater that looked exactly like his little girl’s own. In the split of a second, his eyes randomly searched around. His heart was racing, he was wishing, hoping, maybe his little girl was somewhere around. Tears welled up in his eyes as it dawned on him; his little girl had been gone for two years now. And today was her birthday, is her birthday, he corrected himself. Red is her favorite color. And for a second there, he smiled at the memory of his little girl; donning her favorite red wool sweater, asking him
“Daddy, how do I look?”
How he wished he had paid more attention to her. He took another glance at the old woman knitting, he couldn’t hold it together anymore. The floodgate was open.
The Woman‘s grip tightened, he didn’t notice. The sight of an old woman with a red sweater in her hands brought back all those memories. She felt a lump in her throat but held herself together. She had to, for him. She had gifted his daughter a similar red sweater which she was wearing, the day she got missing. Everything changed that day. It’s been two years, she knew his wounds were still fresh. But she loved his little girl like her own.
And today of all days, she felt anger towards the old woman. In a second of ill-thinking, she cast a furious glare at the woman silently knitting. What am I doing? She snapped herself out of it and redirected her emotions. He needs me, that’s all that matters. She made out for his hands and held onto them, tightly.
The old woman didn’t realize the couple nearing towards her. She was happily drifting away as she completed the final touches of the wool sweater. I hope it looks perfect. She raised her head to see if there was anyone around she could ask; she noticed the couple. Before she could mumble out her request, a sniffling sound came to her ears. It was from the man, she decided to hold her tongue. A cold glare caught her stare. She lowered her head and went about her knitting. There was something familiar in the man, a resemblance. To whom? I’m getting old, she thought to herself, oh well. Her daughter was bringing the little girl around today, the one she said she’d adopted. Finally after two years, but at least she’d get to see her now. I hope she likes the sweater, i made it exactly like the one in her picture. And with that, the old woman went on inspecting the sweater, forgetting all about the man and woman that passed by her.