I sit directly opposite him and see him shivering. His head is bowed down so that I can't see his face. Looking at his hand, there is a deep cut which is filled with dried blood. His hands look dirty and so do his clothes. His hair is unkempt as if he was planning on doing dreadlocks.He looks like he is in distress. Having come from the streets, I know how it is to be in such a situation.“Hey.” This is just to start our conversation.“Hey.” He doesn’t look up but there is something warm with his voice. Something that sounds familiar. Something that makes me want to talk to him the whole day. Reach out to him and probably help him. No matter how broke I’m, I can try to help him.“Need anything?”“A glass of water please.” He still doesn’t look at me. I don’t know whether I'm being paranoid or he just sounds familiar.“Anything else?”“No.”“Bringing your water.” I give him one last look and walk to the counter. If he doesn’t buy anything, they will have him thrown out and it’s not wh
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