Once again Sue has a picture for us as a prompt at #writephoto
One day soon
An odd spot to beg, he hears them say, but they don’t see. No one sees beyond the outstretched hand, the grime-encrusted fingers, the barely-there shoe leather. Certainly not the face. He has a beard of sorts, and scratches and scabs to distract them, but he knows his eyes are the same. If only they could see as far as his eyes.
He’d no more intended to end up here than he intended to end up homeless. He’d heard that one too: ‘They choose to be homeless’. Yeah. Life as an economic cycle: discuss. He’d be a case history for sure, boom to bust in 18 months – new job, new love, marriage, mortgage, partnership, bigger mortgage, affair, separation, redundancy, depression, divorce, eviction, homeless. The cruellest form of bingo.
Still the steps are dry, the takings ok and his hatred of the passersby intense. That’s the draw, that fuel, that brings him here.
He knows them all, he’s sure. The lawyer and the broker, the accountant and the consultant. Each brogue, stiletto, sharp crease, stocking. They approach, all clippety-clop, all confident in their destination. Some have the humility to slow, to wonder if, maybe, it could be them. But they don’t stop, don’t dare catch his eye in case they catch whatever it is he caught.
One day soon he’ll call a name, make an eye contact, see what happens when the great divide is crossed.
One day soon he’ll bring them to his side of the passage, narrowing it to its true dimensions.
One day soon he’ll know they know.
One day soon they’ll know it could be them.
One day soon his work will be done.