Vagabonds: Anthology of the Mad Ones Vagabonds Vol. 3 | Página 67

curious eyes met his gaze. How he wanted to pick himself up off of the ground
and yell at them – to curse out each and every one of them for pretending that he
didn't exist. That he didn’t matter to any of them or their lives. He raised his head
and opened his mouth to yell at the top of his lungs but a scream of pain spilled
from his lips when his chest began to burn. He was tired. He was weak; too
broken to clutch his chest or wipe the rain from his eyes. The man’s eyes fogged
up when he turned his head back to the sky and began to cry.
During his sadness he began to reminisce on how the sun used to shine
on him as it did any other man. How its light used to creep through the slatted
window shades and tumble to the floor before climbing across his warm sheets to
touch his face. He remembered how he used to sit on the porch of his home and
waited for the morning sun to rise over the horizon. When the saw it breach the
l