The reason the crossing guard cries every time you cross the street is because you’re going to die before you turn 26 and she knows it. She gets visions of when and how people are going to die when they step into her cross-walk. Something about surrendering your safety into her hands gives her a window into your future to the moment when not even she can protect you. She knows you’re going to die when you fall in the shower of a hotel room in Chicago where you’ll be staying for business. You’ll be found by a maid.
Today when you see her, tell her, “It’s not your fault. Fate is fate.”
She’ll wheel around on you and hiss, “But what if it wasn’t your fate until I saw it? What if my seeing it is what caused it? What if I’m taking years off the people I’m supposed to be protecting?”
You won’t know how to comfort her, which is too bad because she’ll just then jump in front of a bus whose driver won’t know to stop because she won’t have held up the sign telling him to stop. She didn’t want to go on living with the possibility that she was shortening the lives she was supposed to be guarding. If you’re thinking that this isn’t your fault, just know that she never would have felt so distraught if people like you, who are fated to die an early death, didn’t go crossing in her crosswalk forcing her to wrestle with the implications of her seeing your moment of passing. Way to make the crossing guard kill herself, clumsy.
Happy Crossing Guard Who Can Tell When You’re Going To Die Day!
