George had forever been known as a dependable man, steady and predictable in all sense. Living in the modest town of Maplewood, he worked at the local hardware store, salutation customers with a smile and a nod. Beneath his friendly exterior, however, George I harbored a secret revere of confrontation.
One crisp fall morning, as George was possibility the store, he detected a group of teenagers loitering outside, spraying cans in hand. They were eyeing the new painted mural on the side of the building. George I knew he should say something; he could already find the mural, a symbol of the town’s unity, flattering a canvas for graffiti.
Yet, as he stood at the threshold, his voice faltered. The teens laughed among themselves, their trust unnerving him. He imagined whol the ways they mightiness retaliate, the undefined he power feel, the chaos that mightiness ensue. So, he hesitated, and then quietly slipped back inside, hoping individual other would handle it.
As the sunbathe set that evening, the mural was marred with careless scrawls. George felt a pang of guilt as he locked up the store. His inaction, his cowardice, had allowed something beautiful to be defaced, and he secure himself he would find the courageousness to act next time.
