THE SQUATTING MAN

I saw him from a distance. He was leaning against a Samsung poster pole-squatting actually- with his knees bent and arms hanging over them. He wore shorts and a vest-fading ones if memory serves right. He had what looked like rubbish to me about him but I know to him it was a collection of goodies. It was just 4 in the PM.
As I neared his spot, I held onto my handkerchief, feigning as if to take it to my eyes in an attempt to wipe away invisible tears of misery that I thought this man and I shared. Only I had no misery. He did and he had no handkerchief to pretend wipe it away with. I thought that in pretending to look downcast, I would draw a semblance in situations with him hence defeating his apparent hope that I believe beat in his heart as he saw me approach. I did not. At one point I looked to the opposite side of the road, considering crossing over lest I mash paths with the squatting man. The side I was walking was wider than the other one so I kept on it. He inaudibly made his desire for Ug. shs 500 known! I did not even flinch nor breathe his way but just continued walking. Handkerchief in tow and feeling shame for my prior act.
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