This is a short story (not true)

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I saw a man sitting on his steps one day. He was alone, that was uncommon to me. He would normally be around with a dog, talking with his friends.

I looked up to see a graying sky. I looked back at him. He stood up and walked out, he seemed to not know about the rain coming down. The man walked towards a store.

There was a riot going on there, that's when I realized, his grandson had gone there. I jumped out of my seat and grabbed my sweater and shoes. I put them on and looked up, he was already halfway there. I ran after him, but he had disappeared into the crowd. All I could do is watch.

I noticed him there, watching from a safe distance, but then something hit him in the back. What? I'm not sure. There he dropped to the ground. Everyone's eyes turned to him. 

What were they to do? What was I to do?

I noticed a man, he ran out of the crowd and to the man. Taking his hand, he helped the man, the son of this man rushed up there. They stared at each other.

Enemies faced each other and talked quietly, I didn't hear a thing. 

They raised their hands. Declaring peace.

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I realized then, what kindness can do.