|Forget Your Worries
Author: Claire Gerdes PM
The average Joe in 2045 America converses with a homeless man who people forgot existed at all. This is America afterall.Rated: Fiction T - English - Words: 372 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 05-25-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3025858
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Forget Your Worries
"Sir, are you alright? A young man in the customary white civilian uniform approached a hunched over humanoid shape curled up in a storm drain. He was petite and frail, almost emaciated looking.
"Sir, do you need medical attention?" the shape shifted and a pair of dirty jean clad legs became visible against the pale, sterile concrete. This momentarily quieted the man. It was very rare to see anyone besides police officers, EMTs, or other government officials, out of uniform. In fact, the man was pretty sure that jeans, denim cloths at all, were almost completely extinct in America, what was this man doing with a pair?
"Sir-"he began to question the other man again only to be interrupted by him.
"Don't you sir me, can't you mind your own business?" he growled. It was a feral sound, like an animal of some sort. He turned his face to the other man.
The gutter man's face was weathered and colored like brown leather. His eyes squinted against the afternoon sun as if the light hurt them terribly bad. He was the antithesis of the landscape. He quite literally looked like a dirt smudge against all the ivory colored scenery, the concrete, the buildings, the people, everything. He looked like a food stain that lay against the great big white world.
"Sir, do you need me to help you get home?" He ignored the gutter man as his eyebrows furrowed in pity.
The other man barked out a strangled laugh.
"I'm already there son, now shoo," he snapped, waving his filth caked hand dismissively.
"That's not possible, we don't have-"once again he was cut off.
"Go home boy, let me deal with my problems," he sighed, almost forlornly, and turned back into the drain.
"But-"the gutter man made a strangled gurgling noise and staggered into an upright position.
"Go home," he growled. He sounds different, cold. The other man jumped back a bit and nodded before slinking off into the street.
The gutter man grunted and lowered himself back into the storm drain once more as America's slogan flash across a billboard across the street.
"America: forget your worries."