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There’s something beseeching in his look, in the grime of months caking his wrinkles. His smell’s too nauseating to get close, but he stares at you as if he knew you in a previous life, one where he wasn’t always searching, frightened, hungry or cold.
Before his son died he was a teacher. Afterwards, he slept in shop doorways or beside railway lines, hiding beneath his stench, always seeking.
He’s peering at someone else now. Now he’s moving on. Searching, but in such a quiet, resigned way, you’d almost think he has forgotten what it is he is searching for.

5 comments add one below

  • avatar

    Christopher over 1 year ago

    This is powerful, Drew. What was the inspiration for this drabble?

  • avatar

    Drew Martyn over 1 year ago

    I honestly don't know, Christopher. I decided it was about time I wrote a single one-off drabble, just for a bit of variety, so I sat down with the laptop and this came out. From somewhere came the image of a homeless tramp, usually dirty and smelly but an intelligent, articulate man - a similar guy lived locally until his death a few years back. Thanks for the comment and for asking :)

  • avatar

    Christopher over 1 year ago

    I got the impression of a man with Alzheimer's whose son was caring for him, then the son died and now he's homeless and having to fend for himself. That's why I asked about the origin.

  • avatar

    Drew Martyn over 1 year ago

    That's even better than my idea Christopher :)

  • avatar

    Lisa Williams over 1 year ago

    Heartbreaking xx

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