I want to look into those eyes and say: I know your pain, I know it well
I passed you while on my power walk, figurative steam at my heels as I tried to beat my own record.
One glance as I passed was enough — you’ve been stuck in my mind, haunting me as I go about all the tasks that make up my day.
Your dog pattered behind you, small and timid, but my split-second gaze wasn’t drawn to him.
It was your cheekbones that caught me first, jutting out in stark relief under the pale orange of the streetlight; then the razor-sharp clavicles revealed by your skimpy T-shirt. Your skeletal hand clutched a bag of some sort, the shadows concealing its color.
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