David Simmons, May 2010 | piercing eyes. i came to know this man for about 7 minutes of my life. we were riding down pease street, i believe, en route to serve those who were seated outside of a home without care or food. we came to a stop Light and i glanced over to my left and saw Mr. Simmons standing right next to the car i was in. he looked hot. he looked uncomfortable. i asked the person driving if i could give him a sack lunch. they said yes. i jumped out of the car, lifted the hood of the trunk, rummaged through the box, yanked a brown bag out and handed it to Mr. Simmons. he then said, thank you, very much. as i jumped into the car after the Light had turned green, i thought to myself, "this man's throat is going to be as dry as a desert, he doesn't have a beverage." i asked the person driving if they could pull into the gas station that was no more than a hop away, jolted into the store, grabbed a bottle of water, paid for it, and ran out as if i had stolen something. i was in search of this man. and there he was, at the very same intersection. standing wearily, i said, "excuse me sir, here you go!" he then said to me, "thank you. so much. you came just in time. i really needed some water. thank you, babygirl." i smiled. hesitantly walking away, i turned and asked, "do you mind me snapping a photo of you, sir?" he said, "go right on ahead." i asked him of his name, he said, "david simmons. my name is david simmons." Mr. Simmons recited his name to me as if no one had ever cared to ask of it. he said it with pride. he said it with a slight tone of grief as well. most importantly, he gave me his first and last name. there's a great significance in that gesture. i thank God for that Light that said stop and not yield. had it not been for that Red, we would not have had the chance to serve this man. and by looking at his hands, i could tell he had been an extremely hard working man. i still think about you, Mr. Simmons.