Mr Samuel
Autumn leaves whipped through the gutters and around the quiet street corners, before being thrown up into the air by the chilly, early-morning currents; he’d never cared much for autumn however, it meant winter was on its way, and the cold was terrible when you lived on the streets.
Samuel sat slumped against the polished, black bricks, his grubby bowler hat, which lay nestled atop his dirty, speckled hair, was pulled low over his sleeping eyes. The soft crinkles in his skin were folded into the same thoughtful, little smile that had graced every New York passerby, who cared to look his way, for years now.
The sun began to rise over the towering structures, and people rushed by while sipping on their steaming lattés and straightening their silhouette-like suits, one man dropped a coin into an empty bowl at Samuel’s feet, but walked away again without a moment’s pause.
‘Lucky fella,’ he joked to himself, ‘wish I could sleep in all day.’
Many hours passed, and the brief respite of day was ending, the growing cold had begun to sink back into the streets, as the last fiery rays of sunlight filtered through the smog-filled rifts between the buildings. Samuel was still against the wall, his ragged trench-coat casting shadows far along the pavement. The streetlights flickered on, and a police car pulled up across from him.
‘Hey there buddy, time you moved on, aye?’ The deep voice of the officer pointed out. When no answer came, he got out of his cruiser, and started to walk towards the old tramp, ‘C’mon, you know you can't stay here at night.’
He reached the decrepit bundle of coats, and lifted the bowler hat from the old, wrinkled face. He soon lowered the hat back over the pallid skin, and sighed, before reaching for the radio at his belt. The cheeky smile on Samuel’s lips seemed to dance under the artificial light – he wouldn’t have to face another winter after all.
14-Sep-2010 09:23:39
- Last edited on
16-Sep-2010 15:00:22
by
Eri Vi