A very short story about a successful man in New York, about a homeless man on the sidewalk, about fear and destiny.
One day he saw something moving among the trash bags on a Washington Square side walk.
A rat, he thought.
Then he noticed a black arm.
He was moving.
Actually, it looked like two men. They were moving slowly, one on top of the other.
No, one was a woman. They were two bums making love among the black and white plastic bags, without screams nor hurry.
Shambled in banana peels and milk cans, these two people below the threshold of that word, “human”, were enacting the most essentially human act of all.
It unsettled him.
As did their freedom.
How easy it might be, one fine spring day, to no longer have to yell out buy and sell stocks. No more smiling, no more backstabbing. No more silent mental armies raised and deployed against those who threaten to steal your promotion or your raise. Living on left-overs…
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