An old man was standing near the entrance, wearing nothing but a faded blue bathrobe and slippers. His body shook violently in the cold morning air. His hands were clutching the fabric around his chest as if it might somehow keep the world out.
People streamed past him.
And not one of them stopped.
A businessman in a sharp suit glanced at him, muttered something under his breath, and quickened his pace. A teenage girl wrinkled her nose and said to her friend, “That’s disgusting. Why is he even out here?”
Someone else called out, “Somebody call security or something.”
I couldn’t do that.
I got out of my car and walked toward him slowly, keeping my hands visible so I wouldn’t spook him.
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