Young Jee never wanted to see the things he saw and felt but they came as natural as breathing. There were days he tried keeping his head down and his eyes to the ground, but when he did that, he’d just end up watching ant acrobatics! There was no escape. Even if he closed his eyes, that was when the landscapes appeared; beautiful, surreal, and heart-stopping landscapes. What colors! What sunsets!

By the time he was 8, Jee possessed the wisdom of one who can’t look away. The world could use more of those. Maybe that was, in part, why he did what he did that day when he was with his cousin. That’s how it happens, the millions of unnoticed acts of kindness performed everyday by people whose eyes just happen to have a tight connection to their hearts. You don’t need to be special like Jee. You just need to have that connection.

Jee’s cousin Will lived 3 houses down. Will knew Jee was different and loved his cousin more for it. One day when Will was 12 and Jee was 8, Will talked Jee into walking with him down to 75th where there was a magic shop called The Odyssey. More than anything else in the world, Will wanted to be a magician. He’d heard they’d gotten new tricks in at The Odyssey.

75th was a bad place. Bad people lived there. Bad things happened there. Will told Jee he didn’t believe in bad people. He said good people sometimes are called bad just because they live outside the law. Will had a soft spot for those people. He made Jee swear he’d never tell anyone they’d been to 75th.

“The Odyssey’s right around the corner,” Will said as they stepped cautiously down a 75th sidewalk. Jee scrutinized every face they passed. Somewhere someone played a sad sax. Ants weren’t even out and a row of sunflowers near a fence hid their faces.

“I came here with my father once,” Will said, “… to see a guy who had tickets to a game.”

Jee kept his head down. That’s how he noticed it, the face in the window; a small, rectangular window barely an inch above the sidewalk; a basement window perhaps, part of a sturdy 5-story building connected to other similar buildings like paper dolls. All the other buildings, though, looked lived in. Clothes hung from windows, fans buzzed, curtains blew in and out and cats napped on fire escapes. The building above the face was as vacant as the eyes of the face. The face reminded Jee of a board game they’d found in Kitchky’s attic once; the game where you used a magnetic pen to bring black metal shavings up to a head to add some hair and beard. The game was called Wooly Willy.

‘That’s him!” Jee thought, stopping, and staring. Will stopped too.

”What the…?” Will moaned, looking at the bald head and hairless face.

Jee dropped to his knee.

“What’s wrong with him?” Will asked.

Jee shrugged.

“Are you trapped?” Jee shouted toward the glass, “Have you locked yourself in??”

“Trapped?” the wide-eyed man laughed, “No, I’m a prisoner.”

“Prisoner?” Will exclaimed.

“I’ll call the police,” Jee said.

“No,” the bald man replied calmly, “I’ve put myself down here, given myself a trial, a fair trial and a fair sentence, albeit a harsh one.”

“You can’t do that,” Will laughed.

“Who ses?” the man retorted, “Ain’t no law says a man can’t be judge and jury over hisself. In fact, it saves on taxes.”

“You look like Wooly Willy,” Will said, “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Who is that?”

“The guy on a board game.”

“I don’t think I am he. I don’t know actually.”

“How long have you been holding yourself down there?” Jee asked.

“Today is the first day of the sentence. Verdict came down an hour ago.”

The man paused.

“It was unanimous.”

Will giggled.

“What was the crime?” Jee asked.

“An unspeakable one,” the man gestured with a buttoning of the lip.

“What could be that bad?” Will asked Jee.

“It’s unspeakable,” Jee repeated.

“I guess it’s appropriate that there are bars on the window then,” Will mumbled.

The man scratched his chin.

“Yes. That’s why I chose the spot. It’s perfect. This prisoner is not to be trusted, ever again.”

“Who has the key?” Will asked.

“The guard of course,” the man replied.

“And does the guard look just like you?” Will asked.

The man winced.

“How did you know?”

Jee held up his hand and stopped Will from asking more questions, then bent down further.

“Who will bring you food?” Jee asked.

The face in the window looked confused.

“I don’t know. I assume the other guard. I don’t know.”

“Are there other guards?”

“Yes, as many as needed.”

“That’s it,” Will urged, “Let’s go. The Odyssey closes at noon.”

“The Odyssey,” the man behind the glass laughed, “Oldest tricks known to man. What kind of idiot goes for old tricks like that?”

Will straightened. Jee then got to his feet and brushed off his knees.

“Good luck,” Jee said to the face, then the boys turned and walked on.

An hour later they came back. Both boys had small bags. Jee stopped at the window. The face was still there.

“What are you doing?” Will chided, “Don’t you know he’s nuts?”

Jee bent down, showed the man the bag.

“I brought you a doughnut,” he said, “How do I get it to you?”

The man thought for a second.

“Maybe if I ask the guard, he’ll come out. Wait there.”

Then the face disappeared and a few moments later, the door to the house opened and the man stepped out. He was taller than Jee had imagined and instead of the blank expression he now smiled confidently.

“I’ll make sure he gets it,” the man said taking the bag from Jee before turning and heading back up the steps.

“Oh,” Jee said, stopping the man, “Would you give the prisoner a message?”

The man turned.

“Tell him he’s forgiven,” Jee said.

The man broke into a smile as wide as a kid who was just handed free cotton candy.

“Wonderful news!” the man exclaimed, “I’ll let him know right away. Wonderful!”

And that’s how it happens, every day, just like that. It’s as simple as that.

Jee turned to Will who was staring into the bag at the new trick.

The boys headed for home.

Along the way, Jee saw ants that did summersaults, dragonflies that were caught in a ballet and opened sun flowers that swayed and hummed “Amazing Grace” in perfect harmony.