Red Light

I'm not a writer, but I wrote this... and decided to post it. It is an experience I had in Boulder over the summer.

Red Light

I saw the sign first. In bold capital letters scrawled on a piece of cardboard it read, “FEED ME”. It caught me off guard. Most of the signs said something along the lines of “Out of work, anything helps” or “Lost my job, spare change please”.

Once the shock of the sign wore off, I looked at the boy holding it. His fingers were long and thin, and though I couldn’t see from where I sat comfortably in my minivan, I instinctively knew there was dirt under his fingernails. His arms were much the same, long, thin... seemingly the same diameter all the up to the shoulder showing no sign of muscles beneath the skin. They were either tan or dirty, probably both. The white shirt didn’t leave anything unseen. It showed evidence of lying on the ground, and being acquainted with dirt, not the garden variety. It was more of a dusty, tired kind of dirt that sat on you and weighed you down. It was obviously too big for him as it sagged on his boney shoulders.

His pants were the type an athlete would wear, the windbreaker variety. They seemed empty, lacking the body to fill them out. They just hung, blowing in the breeze. I didn’t notice shoes. I’m sure they were worn, but they didn’t impress me like the rest of his attire.

Then I saw his face. He seemed young, maybe a teenager. His eyes sunk deep into his face and seemed to almost bug out at the same time. His other features seemed to disappear when his eyes were visible. They became unimportant compared to the deep tired, hungry look of his eyes.

He noticed some people crossing the street and he made a motion with his hand, in his own way asking for a cigarette. They both shook their heads and blew out puffs of grey smoke into the air as they passed by him. He seemed undeterred, making the same motion to the people in the car in front of me. No response.

I finally came to myself and realized he was walking my way, and I was no longer just a spectator. I looked around the floor of my minivan, and spotted a small plastic bag of snow peas. I picked them up and held them to the window, wondering if he would take them, or say he only wanted money.
The dark eyes brightened and I quickly rolled down my window and held them out. The light changed, and the interaction was quick. In a congested nasally voice he said “thank you”, and then I suddenly saw that the teenage boy was really a woman, maybe in her forties, maybe even younger, just aged by her lifestyle. I realized my assumption was due to the overall lack of shape and curve that would indicate a woman’s body. She had none of that, just strait, long, thin lines.

She walked away, and instantly I wanted to cry.