Martin is a busy man. He’s an entrepreneur. He runs a handful of companies and buys and sells businesses at the rate of three or four each year. He typically works 12-hour days — sometimes 18-hour days — six to seven days a week.

Martin is also a heart attack survivor. “Martin,” his cardiologist said, “you are a very successful businessman, but if you wish to live to enjoy the fruits of your success, you must slow down. Delegate. Take weekends off, go on vacations. Do whatever you must, Martin. If you don’t stop to smell the roses, your next heart attack will be your last.”

So Martin decided he would heed his doctor’s advice — to some extent, anyway. He limited himself to no more than eight hours a day at the office and officially declared every Saturday as his weekly day of rest.

The sun hung warm and generous over the city park on this Saturday, and Martin had nowhere else he needed to be.

He wandered down the winding path, hands loose at his sides, letting his feet choose the direction. A man with a battered acoustic guitar sat on a bench, playing something bright and unhurried. Martin slowed, listening. People stopped to drop coins and smile. A few clapped along.

Children chased pigeons across the open lawn, shrieking with laughter that dissolved into the summer air. A woman spun in slow circles near the fountain, arms outstretched, face tilted toward the sky as though she were trying to catch the light.

Martin bought a lemon ice from a cart near the oak trees and ate it slowly, watching the world go gently by. A couple danced without music near the rose garden. An old man fed the ducks with quiet ceremony.

Nobody was in a hurry. Nobody seemed to need to be.

Martin found a bench and sat, finishing his ice, listening to the city hum softly around him. He thought, this is what a day is supposed to feel like.

He stayed until the shadows grew long. And when he stood up, Martin suffered a massive heart attack and was dead before his body hit the ground.

Written for the Mindlovemisery’smenagery Friday Faithfuls prompt from Jim Adams. The challenge was to write something about intentionally going at a slower, more leisurely pace, where you stroll aimlessly, and instead of rushing off somewhere, and allow yourself to fully observe your surroundings. This in honor of World Sauntering Day.

Image in the classic pointillist style of Georges Seurat conjured using Copilot.