It was always an issue. As the world around him moved faster and faster, he found himself later and later.
It wasn’t that he didn’t try. He did. He woke up earlier, ate faster, dressed quicker. When he arrived at work, though, he found he was late. Everyone, it seemed, had been hard at work for hours before he showed up. He’d mutter brief apologies which were ignored.
The only time he wasn’t late was for social events. These were occasions when he was the first person to arrive. Everyone else straggled in thirty or more minutes later. They never apologized for their lateness, but their lack of punctuality was ignored.
He sat on the bench, just off the walkway in the park half a kilometre from his house. He watched the walkers, joggers and children pass him by.
He didn’t think he was lonely. He didn’t miss any of his colleagues. He hadn’t gone to any of their funerals.