A Place For Call Home

735 Words Sep 15th, 2015 3 Pages
A Place to Call Home

People draw their coats closer to their bodies and pull their scarves up higher to cover their frozen noses. Mittens cover hands and hats are pulled down to cover exposed ears. I watch them silently as they pass by. The rest of the world moves on while I don’t. I glance at their clean clothes and then look down at mine—dirty and torn—the complete opposite of theirs. Some people who pass by wear polished leather shoes. Mine are not close to as fancy as theirs—they’re not made out of leather or polished like theirs—instead my shoes are made out of canvas and they’re white, or at least they used to be. I rub my cold nose with my numb fingers, trying to warm it.
I realize I’m not the only one who’s observing others. The people who pass by look at me too. They take in my appearance and the spilling backpack I have at my side. No one stops for me. No one speaks to me. No one cares about me. I’m used to it now. This is my life.
Strands of hair fall in front of my face and with frozen fingers I reach up and tuck them behind my ear. A woman who walks by shakes her head and tsks mournfully when she sees me. No help is offered though.
A child with round, rosy cheeks scampers over to me a little while later. He peers into my eyes and tilts his head to the side. It’s as if I’m an unknown creature he’s seeing for the first time. He brings a gloved hand close to my face, but before he can touch me a shout is heard from behind him. He’s tugged away from me…

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