All Our Tomorrows

John meets an old man who seems to know a lot about him.

“At my age, I finally understand: time is the only commodity you can’t stockpile. You wait, and all you have are yesterdays; and you can never know how many tomorrows you’ll have.” He stands, bins the paper coffee cup. “Now you’ve got me talking like a greeting card. Like the sentimental old fool I am. What I mean is, sometimes it’s worth taking a chance.”