I returned home at nine o’clock in the evening. The street was already plunged into darkness: streetlights dimly illuminated the sidewalk, the few passersby hurried about their business, and cars sped past, leaving streaks of light in their wake.
It’s not always safe for a woman to be outside at this time of day. I knew this, so I walked quickly, clutching my bag and glancing over my shoulder every now and then. My heart was beating faster than usual: I’m used to being on guard, because everything in the city seems more dangerous at night.
And suddenly I heard heavy footsteps behind me. Slow, but confident. A man.
I quickened my pace and turned the corner, hoping it was all just my imagination. But the footsteps didn’t disappear. On the contrary, they grew closer.
I glanced back and saw him: a barefoot man of about fifty, with a tangled gray beard and long hair, in dirty, torn clothes. Homeless.
He walked right behind me, almost in step, and he also picked up the pace when he noticed me speeding up. I felt the blood pounding in my temples with terror. My chest tightened, and my breathing became ragged. It felt like my legs were about to give out.
“Oh, Lord, please don’t let it happen to me…” I prayed, crossing the road.
But it was there, under the crosswalk, when the light suddenly turned red, that he caught up with me. I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and flinched, almost screaming.
“What do you want?” the words escaped him. “If it’s money… take the bag! Just don’t touch me, please!”
But what the homeless man did shocked me 😱😱
The man raised his hand, and I noticed a wallet in his palm. My wallet!
He tried to say something, but only incoherent sounds came out. Moving his cracked lips, he quietly uttered something like:
— …I… found… fell…
And then I understood everything. He simply couldn’t speak. And I must have dropped my wallet when I left the store. He noticed this and followed me barefoot across the cold asphalt, unable to call out.
I stood there stunned. Just a moment ago, I’d seen him as a threat, but it turned out he only wanted my thing back.
I felt ashamed of my fear and of the fact that I judged a person only by his appearance.
One thing I remember from that evening: sometimes the most frightening encounters can be the most human.
