A moment most people wouldn’t remember.
The city was quiet in that strange way it sometimes is—cars moving, lights shifting, people existing side by side without ever really seeing each other. The street glowed in that dim amber haze, like the world itself was holding its breath.
And there he was.
On the corner.
A man wrapped in too many layers that still weren’t enough. His coat hung loosely on his frame, worn thin at the elbows, darkened by rain that had long since dried into the fabric. A cardboard sign leaned against his knee, its message barely legible from where I sat.
But I didn’t need to read it.
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