He sat on the wet ground below the barely lit tunnel. The light at both ends were bright embraces from the heated sun but there he sat in the cold and wet. He wore a dark grey tshirt, stained from mud and coffees he's spilled on himself when his hands shivered, below a green wol jacket.
"Do you love me?" Her voice echoed through his head, bouncing off every corner. He covered his ears in hopes of never letting her voice escape his head. There was a time he wasn't homeless; a time he had a wife, a child, a dog. But they've left him on his own and here he is; in the cold and wet.
Seeing him in his lonely state brought up an overwhelming feeling of depression all over my body and so I brought myself towards him. It was an unnatural feeling, one I hadn't had just from viewing a man. Perhaps it was the loneliness within me acting up, perhaps it was the heat I wanted to escape from, perhaps I could think and think and think of what it could perhaps be but I won't for my own sake and for the sake of moving the story along.
I stood next to him. Looking down, I saw a small shimmer in his eye that resonated anguish and misery. I'd question my position at this point, it wasn't safe for me to be in this dark tunnel alone with a man whose mental state is of any importance to me. Still I let out my voice "Do you want to go eat somewhere?"
He sat in the soft seat situated by the tinted window. He would look out after every bite then look back to his food while I sat there with a burger in my head transfixed on him. I tried to start a conversation several times but it was of no use; he was much more interested in the cars and people outside like a cat with a ball of yarn.
"I had a dog once." He finally let out, still mesmerised by the outside. "His name's Mars, he's a golden retriever. I got him when he was still a puppy and I was 13. I felt bad for his mother but at the same time felt excited for myself. I don't know what it is about puppies, they have this thing, don't they?
"Once, when we were growing up, this was when I still lived back in the suburbs, we saw a couple of kids riding down a hill with their bicycles. One of them had ridden all the way to the bottom, where we were, and fell to the ground. I helped him, as any trained child would, and asked his name. 'Max' he said shaking my hand. He was sorta goofy looking, he had these teeth that were - were protruding from his mouth.
"We became friends with Max. He would come over to my house occasionally and we would often play out in the streets. There really isn't an end to this story, just felt like putting that out there."
His description, albeit very little, of Max sounded a lot like my friend from work. Max had described of a time when he was attacked by a dog in his leg. He said he was playing with them one day and while the dog just attacked him out of nowhere-
"Mars had to go. He became a little vicious. What're are you going to do? He's a little rascal he is. He quickly appropriated his name I guess. Thanks for the meal by the way. Here's 5 dollars." He took his wallet and put it on the table and ran out. I didn't look into his wallet but I should've but I didn't and so it doesn't matter.
I saw him run into a car in the street from behind the tinted windows. I'm sorry this was just a bunch of nothings, I probably wasted your time.
The time was up and she knew it. She stood up and shook my hand before leaving. This was a wasted session, I know, but if it gets things out her system then I guess it's somewhat beneficial.