Day Two
I woke with a subtle shift in my perception, a quiet ache of awareness. It wasn’t the usual morning haze; it felt… different. Seeing him shivering yesterday, huddled against the cold, was a splinter lodged in my mind. A shiver of empathy. I found myself appreciating the things I’d always taken for granted: my house, the warmth of clothes, the solid comfort of a bed.
As I dressed for work, the question gnawed at me: how had he ended up there? Didn’t he have a family, someone who cared? He’d seemed so kind, so unassuming. It didn't compute. A small, unexpected flicker of anticipation stirred within me. Maybe I’d see him again today.
—
The familiar sting of traffic, the same red light. Turning my head, I saw him. He was there, holding the same handwritten sign: ‘Anything helps… even a smile.’ I smiled at him, at the faded lettering, at the raw desperation of his plea. I pulled over as close as I could, noticing he’d wrapped the jacket I’d given him around his waist, a small gesture of warmth against the chill.
I rolled down the window, hoping he’d notice. “Um…” I cleared my throat, forcing a volume I didn’t feel. “H-Hi!”
His face lit up. A genuine, radiant smile. “Hi!” He waved, already beginning to move toward my car.
“Hi.” I said again, meeting his eyes. There was a fragility in them, a quiet desperation I hadn’t noticed before.
He tugged at the jacket around his waist, a self-conscious gesture. “Thanks again for the jacket…”
“Oh… it was nothing.” I waved a hand dismissively. “Just sitting in my closet. You’ll put it to better use, anyway.”
“I’ll try my best.” He giggled, a sound that felt too fragile, too small.
The light turned green, and the cars behind me honked impatiently. “Oops!” he shouted, a flash of awareness. “Looks like it’s green.”
“You’re right.” I laughed, a hollow sound. “Well… I’ll catch you later.”
He nodded, his smile fading slightly as I pulled away, disappearing into the flow of traffic.
—
My evening unfolded as it usually did: endless television, mindless snacking. But he kept intruding on my thoughts. He was probably freezing on that bench, hungry and alone. I couldn’t shake his face, his smile, the way he’d waved. He was so sweet, so vulnerable. I had to help him again.
I bolted from the couch, heading straight for the fridge. I winced at the sheer excess of my own provisions. How could I live with such abundance while someone else starved? I opened the freezer, searching for something to offer. A bag of chicken strips caught my eye.
I started to turn on the oven, then paused. “Wait…” What if he was vegetarian? I wouldn’t want to offend him. I decided to make spaghetti alongside the chicken, just in case.
Finally, I had two containers, warm and steaming, and a fork. I grabbed my coat and keys and headed out the door.
—
As I approached the park, I saw him again, slumped on the bench. He hadn’t moved. It had to be him. I grabbed the containers, walking toward the bench, my heart pounding. He was wearing the jacket, of course. A small smile tugged at my lips as I got closer.
“Hi.” I choked out, my voice barely a whisper.
He lifted his head, wiping his eyes. Was he crying again?
“Oh…” He sniffled, sitting up on the bench. “It’s you. Hi!”
“Yup… It’s me.” I chuckled awkwardly, trying to mask my anxiety.
His eyes trailed down to the containers in my hands. He licked his lips, then tentatively touched his sunken-in stomach.
“Don’t worry.” I walked closer. “They’re for you.”
“R-Really?” He choked out, his voice trembling. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” I added, stepping in front of the bench. “Mind if I sit?”
He nodded rapidly, scooting over. “Please do!”
“Thanks…” I sat close to him, opening the containers. The aroma of warm food filled the air. I handed him a fork. “Here.”
“Are you sure?” He hesitated, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “I don’t want to take your food.”
“Yes. I’m sure.” I lifted the fork higher, prompting him to take it.
The boy’s eyes welled up with tears as he grabbed the fork. “I don’t know what to say.”
“How about…” I handed him both containers. “Thank you.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
He scooped his fork into the spaghetti, taking a large bite.
“I hope you’re not a vegetarian.” I chuckled, pointing to the chicken.
“I wish I had the strength to be a vegetarian.” He chewed happily. “I just love chicken too much.”
“I know, right…” I smiled, watching him eat.
I began to notice how quickly, how desperately he ate. He looked gaunt, hollowed out. It was painful to watch.
“How long has it been since you ate?” I asked, then instantly regretted it. I didn’t want to sound rude.
He looked up at me, his green eyes glazed over with exhaustion.
“I’m sorry…” I apologized. “That was rude of me to ask—”
“No… it’s fine.” He looked away, blinking away tears. “Um… maybe 3 or 4 days? I’ve kind of lost track.”
My heart dropped to my stomach.
“Days?” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. “Wow…”
“It’s okay.” The boy nodded, forcing a smile. “I-I’ll be okay.”
I sighed, watching him go back to his food.
“Well…” I stood up from the bench, looking down at him. “I’ll let you finish your food in peace.”
“Do you want your containers back?” He held them up. “And your fork?”
“No…” I shook my head. “No, no. Don’t worry about that. I have plenty of containers at home.”
“Thanks again… for everything.” He tugged at the end of his jacket sleeves. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Like I said before.” I shrugged. “Consider it a gift.”
I turned away from the bench, heading back toward the car.
“Oh!” I quickly jogged back to him.
“Yeah?” His green eyes sparkled as he looked up at me.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
The boy smiled. “Harry.”
I held my hand out to shake his. “Louis.”
“Nice to meet you, Louis.” He weakly shook my hand.
“Nice to meet you…” I turned back around, smiling one last time before I left him.
As I pulled away, I couldn’s help but notice Harry’s head slumped against the hard bench. He looked so utterly defeated. Maybe I’ll bring him a pillow tomorrow.