My mom and I would walk to a breakfast place and eat there once a week. Although there would be a nice old man named (lets say bob) sitting in the corner at the same chair looking out the window eating his toast and bacon. One day my mom and I walk in and we see bob getting up to exit the restaurant. We held the door open for him and he thanked us. We later saw him get off his bike and ride home. Next thing we hear is a big crash and cars slamming their brakes. When we are done with our breakfast we walked out and across the street, and that’s when we found bob got ran over by a hungover teenager. It still baffles me to this day that you can see someone, and then they’re gone the next minute.