My surroundings are different at this moment, different from those I used to have working along side my friends. This place is calm, quiet, lonely at times. I have a bed of gravel, dried leaves from the autumn past, fallen and forgotten now like me. They come and go, and some stay a while cuddling together in the edges and corners. The other part of me is nearby as well: my base. It kept me upright, tall, steady, making sure that the warning was clear to those driving by. My buddies stood next to me forming that line. Together we worked to keep others safe and out of danger. It was honest work. The big guys always took us all home at the end the job. They stacked us together and piled us on the truck. But one day during the project for this street Sam, the cat, ran through the line when he should have stayed out. The car driving by barely avoided Sam but hit me instead. The hit knocked me down and broke off my base. I couldn't be stood back up again, the injury was too severe and I was devastated. In the flurry of activity they shoved me, put me out of the way. I was not useful any more, my working days were over. That's how I ended up here watching the cars go by on the street I helped repair. The sun shines, the breeze whips by and my neighbors visit. Today I wait for Sam to come by, he's ever thankful for the day I saved his life.
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