Boy on the bench

The boy on the bench

I push my way out of the busy coffee shop clutching my drink.

"Look, don't care how you do it, just get it done!" I snap. "I swear to god Jessica, by the time I get back to the office you better have it sorted. And that's an order."

I abruptly end the call before she has chance to reply and push roughly past an old man who is taking ages to get into the shop. There should be some law against old people clogging up spaces where the rest of us need to be.

The winter air is harsh on my chest as I walk quickly into a nearby park and look round for somewhere to sit. Usually I'd have my lunch in the office but if I'd have spent another second in there today I'd have ended up screaming at Jessica and god knows I can't handle her crying again.

Despite the weather the park is busy so I head over to a quiet spot I know from my running. There are just two benches and I groan when I see that both of them are occupied. On one sits a homeless man, huddled closely to his dog against the cold.

There's no way I'm sitting next to him. I won't be able to eat my lunch next to a smelly old tramp.

My eyes travel to the other bench, where a tall, slim man is reading a book. I sigh as I head towards it, perching myself on the edge. I'm just unwrapping my sandwich when I hear a deep voice from next to me.

"Lovely day, isn't it?"

Christ, he's not some weirdo who is going to try and talk to me is he? I make a short affirmative noise and begin to scroll through my diary on my phone. Meeting at 1:30, I must remember to tell David about the call from the New York office; actually I should probably mention replacing Jessica while we're at it-

"Of course, I guess it's not so nice for some poor souls..."

I realise with annoyance that the man is still talking to me. I glance to where he's gesturing, at the homeless guy on the next bench.

"Yes well, he probably deserves it." I say frostily. "He's probably an alcoholic or druggie. Maybe if he worked for a living and made decent life choices like the rest of us he wouldn't be in that position."

"Do you really think so?"

I turn to man for the first time. He's smiling at me as if I'm an oddity. He has dark curls crammed under a hat and bright green eyes.

"Yes. I do think so." I say shortly before looking back down at my phone.

I take a bite of my sandwich and realise the boy is still looking at me curiously.

"What?" I snap. "Why are you staring at me?"

"I'm just thinking. Isn't it strange how we all have a different perspective on the world? You look at the poor guy over there and see a druggie who's brought it all on himself. I see something different. How odd."

He shrugs then looks back down at his book. I watch him for a second before curiosity wins out and I speak;

"Well what do you see? There's no excuse for a capable man to be sleeping on a bench. It's not like there aren't jobs out there."

The boy looks up and me in surprise and gives me a puzzled grin.

"Are you talking to me?"