She felt more than others. It got her into trouble most of the time. She thought about saving the world. Feeling helpless wasn’t her thing. Sleepless nights were normal. When they told her to narrow her focus, she knew she was in the wrong place.
She hated it. The sound of the rain was a terrible, ugly noise. Her heart could tolerate a little drizzle, but pouring rain caused her pain. When the others curled up with their mug of hot chocolate and a book, she’d wish her ears were silent. The cruel thunder pierced through her, as she hoped that her homeless friends outside had found some shelter.
It had been a long day and she wasn’t in the mood for creepy people. She could feel the person following her. It wasn’t any of her usual canine or feline friends because they preferred to leap over to her in seconds. So she quickened her pace until the sound of the annoying slippers made her turn around. What she saw softened her face; it was a little girl in torn clothes and two very dirty slippers that were obviously for bigger feet. They exchanged smiles and names over a meal of roasted corn.
Two pairs of eyes lit up with love. They knew she’d come visit with food and cuddles until the moment they’d be taken away from the world. She laughed and talked to them as one waited patiently and the other stood up to greet her. The tails wagged with gratitude as they chewed their meal. The voiceless beings seemed unaware of the disapproving looks around them. But she saw it and felt it and wished for a nicer world.
“Can we go to the pizza place today?” His eyes were hopeful. They held hands and walked towards the mall. “Mommy, why is that old man sleeping on the road?” The mother frowned. She felt depressed even explaining it. “Because he lives here, child.” The eyes lost their hope. He thought it was a lie. “Mommy, where is his kitchen?” She told him that he had no kitchen. His chin was determined. “Let’s buy him a pizza.”
Every time it rained, she felt miserable. Where would they find shelter from the downpour? People seldom let them take refuge. Every year when winter hit, her heart broke at the thought of them shivering in the cold. Every summer, she wished she could leave out bowls of water without people stealing them. The poor beings suffered from thirst. “Is there any season that is kind to them?” She replied to herself, “No.”
The roll of the drums drowned out his sorrow. The strong odour of alcohol made his nose itch. His plate was empty minus a piece of roti. They were busy gobbling their food. He wore his usual torn shorts and four-year-old faded tee shirt. His right sandal was broken. They wore their new outfits, changing them day and night. His wife and child slept restlessly on the pavement, wishing their hunger would go away.