By: Anna Luo

Would anyone notice if I died? An extremely morbid thought for 8 am on a Monday morning, but one I could not help pondering as I stepped out of my apartment building and started onto the bustling city street. Maybe I was still processing that my boyfriend of two years had been cheating on me with my “best friend,” something I discovered just last week. Or I could be hung up over the fact that Mama and Baba still refuse to talk to me after I pursued English instead of law last fall. Or maybe, it’s because today’s my birthday, but I woke up knowing there’d be no one to remind me.

I’m suddenly hit with a pang of desire to reach out and tap a stranger on the shoulder; just to make sure I’m not invisible. Pretty sure I’m losing my mind; I think to myself absentmindedly. Stuffing my hands into the pockets of my coat, I grumble about a tear in the material as I kick at a nearby rock in annoyance. The rock skidded away from me, landing near the curb beside what appeared to be an old newspaper. Out of pure curiosity and a lack of anything better to do, I stepped towards the curb, examined the newspaper and after several seconds of hesitation, picked it up. The front-page headline read:

STOCK MARKETS ON THE BRINK OF COLLAPSE; POVERTY AND UNEMPLOYMENT LEVELS SKYROCKET

Scanning the page, I frowned at the startling statistics of rising poverty levels and rolled my eyes at the lackluster and generic response from government officials. Turning to the next page I quickly lost myself in reading as I continued my journey down the sidewalk.

It was only when I tripped over something and promptly fell to my knees, dropping the paper in the process, that I was finally forced to tear my eyes away from the newspaper.

The words “ANYTHING HELPS,” were scrawled over a now crumpled box in front of me.

Abruptly looking up, I finally registered the man sitting on the sidewalk beside the box. He wore a dark green jacket littered with so many cuts and tears that I instantly grew ashamed of myself for complaining about the singular hole in my own coat earlier. Strands of matted brown hair peaked out of his equally worn-out beanie as he sat in a curled-up position, most likely to conserve body heat. As if sensing my gaze, the man meekly looked up and I found myself staring into grayish blue eyes that once upon a time, might’ve shined bright blue. “Would you plea-”

I swiftly cut him off by muttering something incomprehensible as I hastened to stand back up, turning my back to the man. Even though I didn’t talk to Mama anymore, her lessons were still ingrained in me whether I like it or not. Never interact with homeless people, they are nobodies and don’t concern you.

I hurried away from the man, only to stop several paces later as guilt creeped in like the cold seeping into my skin. I should turn around to apologize, it’s not like I can’t spare a dollar or two. But even as I mused to myself about being a better person and taking action, I could feel my attention being dragged towards the warm and inviting coffee shop across the street, newspaper and man already fading from mind. So, I kept walking.