The unshaven homeless man unscrewed the top off his   store of whisky which was nearly empty and drank greedily. He pushed his thick  browned hair to the side, giving the passing woman a   wideness making her walk faster away from him. He took another(prenominal)  draft copy and returned the bottle to the pocket of his torn leather  come on which he had on.  To the people around who saw  wharf Russel he was a bum, a piece of trash in society,  and what they didnt  make out was Bob was a normal person  fairish  care them. Just six short months ago he was a successful journalist for the Sunday Times with a  noble paying salary, a large house, two  sumptuosity cars and a loving wife and a child. That seemed like a  grand time ago and Bob dreamt of having it again.  He couldnt stop  panorama about that night when he and his family were on the  path   traveling back from a family gathering, when out of no where it came out of no where. The  equipage trailer had veered across the other sid   e of the  channel and destroyed his life. He survived but to him he didnt take it as granted, as he blamed himself for the death of his wife and daughter.

 If   all in all he had taken more time fitting the   crown rack; if only he had put in a litre more of petrol, he would have missed it, if only.  Bob looked  desire he was like twenty five  historic period old. The  cause of sleepless nights and alcohol abuse being  prudent for the  severe blue black bags beneath his blood red eyes. This  erstwhile young and happy face had been changed by a semi trailer, which had gate-crashed his  formerly normal life. Bob was now unemployed, his once  bu   xom house had...                            !               If you want to get a  adept essay,  run it on our website: 
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