Sunday, September 7, 2014

A Tiny Tale


Tilted head, tattered clothes, gloomy eyes, amputated right leg and restless hands; I saw him counting coins, from the other side of the road.

"Poor soul", I thought.

As I crossed the road, with hands deep in my pocket, searching for more coins to add to his broken plastic cup; I saw he did not count coins.

Those were war medals.

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