I see him every day. A blob of brown next to the red of the postbox. Shoulders hunched. Cheeks gaunt. Eyes downcast.
From time to time he twitches, almost lifting his arm, hand outstretched. And then it falls again, maybe under the weight of shame.
I cross him on my evening walk. An emotion arises in my heart.
Is it pity? I don’t know.
I continue my walk, pretending I don’t see him. Like he doesn’t exist.
Slowly he becomes a fixture, like the red post box he stands beside. Both anachronisms in this world.
One day, as I cross him, a stranger places a coin in his palm. His smile brightens that dark corner as he mumbles his thanks.
An emotion arises in my heart. This time, I know it is not pity, but shame.
Harshita Nanda is an author, blogger and book reviewer based in Dubai, UAE. She trained as an engineer before changing tracks to become a full-time writer. Her stories have a strong emotional quotient with a streak of feminism. Avoiding unnecessary drama, she focuses on the universal appeal of human emotions.
Poignant and powerful!
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