Homeless and hungry read the cardboard sign. The man was huddled, shoulders hunched, outside the laundromat where I’d taken my single load.
“Can I buy you a meal?”
“You’re very kind.” He raised his head and I fell into haunted, sad eyes, with a glimmer of hope.
Over a Big Mac and fries he told me how the loss of his wife and child had brought him so low. I shared my own loss.
That night he slept on my sofa bed.
These days we carry two loads of washing to the laundromat, our eyes full of hope.
“Can I buy you a meal?”
“You’re very kind.” He raised his head and I fell into haunted, sad eyes, with a glimmer of hope.
Over a Big Mac and fries he told me how the loss of his wife and child had brought him so low. I shared my own loss.
That night he slept on my sofa bed.
These days we carry two loads of washing to the laundromat, our eyes full of hope.
