As I walked through the cold, lonely streets of Aberdeen, I decided to take a shortcut home. Making a sharp right, I was headed down an alleyway, which was dark and sinister. Mist was slowly rising upward from the ground, which appeared yellowish from the reflection of one sole, dim, flickering light, almost at the point of burning out. The only sounds of the night came from my own feet dragging over many pebbles and stone on the cement. The breeze was very bitter and piercing upon my body, feeling like 1000 needles hitting my flesh.
From somewhere in the distance I sensed movement. As I inched closer, anxiety and fear grew. The first thing I noticed about him was his clothing. The old blue and black t-shirt this old man was wearing seemed so thin that he might as well have not been wearing a shirt at all. His trousers, dirty, frayed, green jeans, were much too short, exposing parts of his frost bitten leg. Plastic bags, tied at the top around his ankles, were used as shoes. The only thing keeping his face warm was his long, thick, black and white beard that looked like it had been growing wildly for years. The little bit of grey hair he had on his head, blew with the wind, causing strands to be going in every direction. Judging by his wrinkled, rubbery looking skin, it looked as if he was in his 70’s, though looks can be deceiving.
He sat on a dirty cardboard box that was on the ground, hugging his knees close to his chest to protect himself from the cold. His eyes, black and hollow, and his gaze never left the pile of empty juice cans, which lay two feet away in front of him. His only movement was his constant and continuous shivering. A bent piece of cardboard reading “Can I have money please” was leaned up against the dark granite bricks of the wall he was sitting against. Unfazed by a rat that just ran over his foot, it was almost as if he was a vegetable, oblivious and ignorant to everything that was happening around him.
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