1.2

“You’re welcome.” he says quite glumly. He wore tattered clothes: a once-black-and-white striped jacket, which was now gray. He had ripped-up indigo jeans that fit him tightly. His face was pale and slightly bony. His expression was even more startling. His eyes were a surprising emerald green that reminded me of the ferns and leaves in the forest, all shining with dew.

          He started to walk away, but before he could leave just yet, I gently caught him by the arm and said, “Thank you. Do you need anything? You seem a bit...” I trail off, not knowing how to say it.

          His mouth opened and his voice was troubled, but controlled, “No, I am fine.” But he looked far less than fine.

          “Look, here, I’ll just give you...” I took off my dull blue backpack and shuffled through everything I brought with me. Then, a hand on my shoulder stopped me.

          “It’s okay. I’m fine, but thank you.” he said, his voice calm, as if nothing in the world mattered, as if there were no problems. I wonder if he was actually okay, from him sounding so calm. Either New York had a lot of nice people, or it had only a few grateful people.

          “Um...well okay then...uh thanks again...bye.” I stuttered awkwardly.

          “Goodbye.” he said, a slight bit of sadness, or maybe disappointment in his voice. He walked away, but something was different. I felt something stirring inside me...something that hasn’t been felt in a while...I’m not sure. It’s probably nothing.

The End

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