The Journey Back

He stood there waiting for the train. This was not much of a station, just a platform out in the middle of nowhere. A few people stood in anticipation, stamping their feet in the snow to keep warm. Even though below freezing, their was a mist in the air that dropped onto the skin and bit bone. He looked up and down the tracks as either direction disappeared quickly into the fog and darkness.

"Hey."

A drunk had silently approached from the side and grabbed is attention with a soft voice.

"Can you spare a couple Euros? I am going to the next stop but I have nothing. Please?"

He fumbled in his pockets and found them empty, the curse of a life of plastic cards. "I'm sorry. I have nothing."

The disheartened look of what was once likely a good looking man, "That's okay. It is common these days. Thanks anyway." He sidled away.

He watched him walk slowly down the platform a few steps, stop and stand looking into the darkness. He reached into his jacket and flicked through, receipt, receipt, receipt. A twenty. The only piece of paper in there that had any value. He looked up as the man blew into his woolen gloves to keep his hands warm.

What does the twenty mean to me he thought, it is no small sum. What does it mean to him? I earned it, he did not but it is mine to give. It will buy me a meal and the bus ride home, he will likely buy a bottle of something to drink.

"Hey" he called out "I found something, here you go." and pressed the folded twenty into one of the hands covered in a dirty glove. The mans face smiled, his eyes showed gratitude. And shame. 

"Thank you. Thank you very much." and he walked away.

That money was for the bus home but now it is his. The man thought whether it is a waste to give what would likely go to waste but realised that at the point he pressed it into the glove, it was no longer his choice to decide where the money would go. He hoped it would buy a warm meal.

It was now up to the dishevelled man with the twenty, for the moment he was empowered to do with it what he could. Would he be wise, or would he succumb to temptation as he had likely done for so many years prior. Who can tell, the man at the station did what he could, it was now in the hands of the only one that can help him.

The man thought a little more as the lights from the train appeared far off in the darkness. Could that ever be me? Could I ever be the one in such need or be a slave to an addiction out side of control? Another world maybe, another life, but not here, not now. Here and now, he had the twenty to give and with a trip to a teller, he can get another for the bus ride home.

The lights drew near and the train came to a stop. As he boarded, he looked back as the man going to the next stop walked away from the train and thought to himself, I hope he enjoys the drink at the very least. What more could he do?

But, if that other life ever came to pass and it was he standing cold and alone staring into the dark as a train approached, would he ask for help, or step onto the tracks?

Taraz
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