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the beggar
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the streets marinated in the stench of sewage and rat feces in the underground. the longer i sat on the roads painted in the color grey, the more it seemed like just a mirage of footsteps and legs that looked more like disconnected body parts stepping on their own; monotonous, robotic, and strange. how could life look so lifeless?
faces started to look the same after wondering eyes casted the all-too-familiar glares of both judgement and disgust. the ridicule of sitting in the dirt forsaken streets day after day as a child who begged for nothing but a hopeless act of kindness reeked the rewards of black eyes, bloody lips, and getting spit on by strangers who only knew of the same struggles as i did-why else would they be in the underground where everyone knew everyone yet no one at the same time.
i cant remember the last time i met with a pair of eyes other than my own in a reflection of a puddle that kept me company on a rainy day. that is, until an opened hand was the only thing blocking the usual off-white wall that sat opposite of me in the place i've always sat.
the mere effort of reaching in front of my gaze to capture my attention surprised me more than the slightly rusted metal he had sitting in the palm of his hand. if they caught the light just right, you could still see a soft glimmer reflect off of its worn surface-and that amazed me.
he patiently waited for me to take them, but instead, i looked up to see a face that mirrored my own.
YOU ARE READING
𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑬 ☙ 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍
Fanfiction↳ what if you didn't know who you were in a world that didn't help you understand? being forced to make decisions that push you to the edge until you find something, or someone, that makes you feel at home. don't be mislead by the title. ☙ a levi...
