hunched

There he was. Alone. In that horrible, screechy shopping centre food hall. Surrounded by plugged.in.kids, hysterical parents and screaming babies.

Old and grey and slow, hunched on his chair. A paper cup full of weak tea. Gently scooping plastic.cream onto a sad pair of wrapped.in.plastic scones, with a small plastic spoon.

I wanted to whisk him away. Take him home, to my toasty kitchen. Make him a cup of steaming tea, a batch of fresh scones. Offer some real cream. And talk to him: about his life, about where he’d been, who he was, who he is.

But of course, I couldn’t. So I just dragged hurting heart, squeezed My Lovely One’s hand a little tighter and hurried past.

Tags: connection, holding hands, loneliness, My Lovely One