That day he stared at me…

His eyes raven, wide they stared into nothing.

His face shaggy, his clothes ragged.

It was cold out, though many jackets warmed him.

His hat lay with coins in its cup upon his lap.

Like a shadow to the large company-owned building behind him. Toppling tens of stories high.

That building that serves as a future for many, a future of monotony and routine.

Many listen, but don’t ask why.

Do we do your chores to be able to play with your toys? Drink your drinks? Wear your shoes?

Do we do your chores to eat your food so we don’t starve? Live in your house so we have shelter?

Do we do your chores to live? Or live to do your chores?

He doesn’t…the man that sits beneath you, his back propped against your cold walls.

His eyes met mine, a jaded face, a blank expression, lost in his own mind.