November 26, 2013

In oblivion they remain

She stood at the doorway with a stick in hand. Short, frail, with wrinkled skin; she shook with every little shudder of the fast moving train.

A closer look revealed half her face was caved in, an empty hole where there was once an eye. The dark, recessed mass casting a scary gloom on what was just an old, worn face.

Her remaining eye was glazed, weak and devoid of all expression. I might as well been staring down a black hole.

As the train started, she slowly moved through the compartments, her arms stretched, one small step at a time lest she lose balance.

I realize there are many who make money by begging on trains. Islam approves helping old people who can't fend for themselves. If this lady doesn't deserve help, I don't know who does.

I handed her a 20 bill. She deserved more.

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