Rain On Cold Pavement
Rainwater poured off the brim of a battered hat, dripping directly onto the asphalt below.
A boy stood tucked under the narrow glass canopy of a city bus shelter, crossing both arms tightly against his chest.
His bare feet pressed flat against the wet, dark sidewalk, pale against the puddles forming at the curb.
An older man slowed his pace, his heavy brown overcoat dark and sodden across both shoulders.
He stopped near the glass partition, looking down at the child’s feet.
The boy looked out into the downpour and explained that his footwear had completely torn apart on his walk home.
Unlacing Worn Leather
The older traveler paused, shifting his weight on the slick pavement.
He looked down at his own feet, clad in a pair of scuffed, water-stained brown work shoes.
He stepped beneath the roof of the shelter and bent forward at the waist.
His weathered hands worked at the damp laces, pulling them loose loop by loop.
He slid his heels out of the leather, leaving dark socks resting on the cold ground.
Straightening up, he leaned over and held both heavy shoes out toward the child.
The boy looked down at the offering, noting that giving them away left the older man with nothing to cover his own feet.
The man quietly set the footwear down at the child’s toes, answering that he had traveled without shoes before.
The boy slipped his feet inside the oversized leather, taking small, cautious steps on the wet concrete.
A Return To The Shelter
The next morning, morning light illuminated the same transit stop.
The older man sat quietly on the metal bench, his bare feet resting on the dry sidewalk.
Two sets of footsteps approached from down the street.
The boy walked beside an adult man wearing a buttoned jacket, pointing toward the bench.
The boy’s father stepped forward, pausing before the seated man and resting a hand on his son’s shoulder.
He explained that his son had recounted everything from the rainy night before.
The seated traveler tilted his head upward, his hand resting flat against his lapel as he replied that he had only offered what was needed.
The father explained that he operated a local repair shop just down the road.
He extended his right arm toward the bench, opening his palm.
The barefoot man pushed himself up from the bench, leaning forward to take the outstretched hand in a firm, lingering clasp as the boy looked on.
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