I didn’t recognize him at first, thinking him just a tired businessman coming home after a long day.  It wasn’t until I came closer that I saw the telltale signs; his greasy hair hung low over his eyes, the left pant leg had a tear up the side.  At one time he was a proud businessman, now a shell of whom he once was, trying to hang on to what is left of his dignity.  He still wore penny loafers and a button-up shirt tucked into his slacks.  When the train’s doors -whooshed- open he shuffled into the car and sat down dejectedly, not looking anyone in the eyes.  Everyone around him ignored his presence.  I couldn’t help but wonder what he was like before.  Did he have a family?  How did he lose it all?  What keeps him going?  Even now as I sit in my warm, comfortable apartment some 5 hours later, I wonder where he is and my heart goes out to him.


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