The Subway

I looked at him and couldn’t believe my eyes. He looked hollow. I didn’t even know him, but his appearance drew the words out of me. Just pure concern for another human.

“Are you OK? When was the last time you slept?”

He was completely disheveled. Shirt half tucked in, unbuttoned two buttons below the neck and looked as though he has been wearing it for days non-stop. Stained and wrinkled. He was not homeless looking, but fallen down professional.

The thing that drew the most attention was his eyes. Not the eyes themselves, they were glassy and non-focusing, but the skin around them. If I didn’t know better I would have thought he had had his nose broken. Around his eyes his skin was completely black. At first glance I thought it was eye shadow, but it wasn’t. It was his skin. How long do you have to go without sleep to get eyes like that?

“The terrors are keeping me awake.”

“How long has it been since you slept?”

No response. Just staring.

And then “The terrors.” He murmured and got up and walked out of the subway car.

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