The rain poured relentlessly, soaking the streets of the Alphas City. People hurried along the sidewalks with umbrellas and raincoats, eager to escape the downpour. At the bus stop, a man sat on the bench with no umbrella, no coat just a tattered shirt clinging to his skin. His shoes, once leather, were now cracked and broken, with holes that let the rain seep through.
His name was Joseph. To most passersby, he was just “that homeless man who always sat at the corner.”
“Look at him,” a voice said, sharp with irritation.
A woman named Clara stood nearby, clutching her designer handbag tightly. She had just finished a long day at her law firm and was annoyed to see Joseph there again.
“He could work if he wanted,” she muttered to her friend, Michael. “People like him choose this life. They’re lazy.”
Joseph lowered his gaze. He was used to words like that.
Michael glanced at Joseph, then back at Clara. “Maybe it’s not that simple.”
“Oh, please,” Clara scoffed. “I worked hard for everything I have. No excuses.”
Joseph didn’t speak. Instead, he pulled his shoes closer together, as if shielding them from her gaze.
The bus arrived, its headlights cutting through the rain. Clara and Michael stepped on, but as Clara took her seat, she felt a strange dizziness. The world around her spun, and everything went black.
When she opened her eyes, she was no longer on the bus. She was sitting on the wet bench at the bus stop, wearing Joseph’s ragged clothes. Her expensive heels and polished handbag were gone. Instead, she saw a pair of cracked leather shoes on her feet.
“What, what is this?” Clara whispered, panic rising in her chest.
People passed by, glancing at her with the same disdain she had once shown Joseph. Some clutched their bags tighter. Others avoided her eyes. She tried to call out, but her voice cracked.
“Spare some change, miss?” a man asked, his face lined with hardship.
“I don’t I don’t have anything,” Clara stammered, realizing her pockets were empty.
The man walked away, shaking his head. For the first time, Clara felt the sting of being invisible.
Hours passed. Clara tried to stand, but her legs ached. The rain had soaked her thin clothes, and every step in Joseph’s ruined shoes sent a chill through her. She wandered the streets, searching for shelter.
At a small café, the warm glow of lights drew her in. She pushed open the door, shivering.
“Can I help you?” the waitress asked, her tone polite but guarded.
“I, I just need somewhere warm,” Clara pleaded.
The waitress frowned. “You need to order something, ma’am.”
Clara reached for her bag, but of course, it wasn’t there. “I don’t have money…”
The waitress sighed. “Then I’m sorry, you can’t stay.”
Clara stumbled back outside, the door shutting firmly behind her. The rejection stung more than the rain.
By evening, hunger gnawed at her stomach. She passed a bakery, the smell of bread tormenting her. In desperation, she reached for the dumpster behind the shop, where discarded loaves lay wrapped in plastic. She hesitated, shame flooding her but hunger won. She tore off a piece of stale bread and ate.
Tears blurred her vision. “So this is what he goes through,” she whispered.
That night, Clara found herself lying on the same bench Joseph had sat on. The city noises surrounded her sirens, laughter, the rumble of cars but none brought comfort. Her body ached, her stomach still empty, and the cold gnawed at her bones.
As she drifted into an uneasy sleep, she realized something: survival wasn’t laziness. It was a daily battle.
When she opened her eyes again, she was back on the bus. Her dry, tailored suit clung to her comfortably. Her expensive shoes shone beneath her. For a moment, she thought she had dreamed it all.
But then she looked out the window. There, at the bus stop, sat Joseph just as before, in his tattered clothes and broken shoes.
Clara stood quickly, heart pounding. “Stop the bus!” she shouted.
She hurried off and ran to Joseph. For the first time, she looked at him not with disdain, but with understanding.
“Sir,” she said gently, pulling a folded bill from her wallet. “Please… get yourself something warm to eat.”
Joseph looked at her, surprised. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice raspy.
Clara smiled faintly, tears pricking her eyes. “And… I’m sorry.”
As she walked away, her heels clicking against the wet pavement, Clara glanced down at Joseph’s shoes. They were still cracked and broken, but now, to her, they carried a weight she would never forget.
She had walked a mile in them and it had changed her forever.
The image used is mine.
