Deaths due to neglect
By: Sandra Guerreiro
Tags: Death, Money, Poverty, Homeless, Life

Photo by Steve Knutson on Unsplash

I was going in a hurry, as I always do on my way home from work. A thousand and more things to do before I call it a day. I stopped at that store, the one where I had look for almost a month those shoes. I didn’t know where I could wear them, at this moment when life had stopped between the way home to work and little else.

They were beautiful! Even if it was for my house or a trip to the supermarket it was clear that I was going to wear them. Very clear.

I entered the store without even looking at the window. I entered without a doubt that I was going to buy them without even thinking about it. I went to the store maid and in my clear smile behind the mask after the usual greeting, I pointed to the shelf where they were. They had been there for almost the whole month. The maid and I knew. I thought so. In their space, they had been replaced by some boots. My courtship, it took too long and someone had taken them. You still gave me several options. Business was bad, I kept complaining.

I knew it. We all know. I declined with all due respect and education and left.

I took off my mask and lit a cigarette, another frustration. What a hell an addiction I don’t lose! Looking for an ashtray to put it out I bumped into a couple stretching a blanket on the floor right next to the crate. I stopped a little, without wanting to make them uncomfortable, I watched their backpacks. They were taking from their portable house, some blankets, a pillow, and a bag from where they took food and water. When I was on my way the boy asked me for a cigarette with a certain embarrassment and I in my huge bag full of nothing gave him one. Two, the ones left in the pack. He thanked her and she smiled continuing what seemed to be a routine. To pass or mark the place for the night I thought later. I followed my frustrated way. Not because I didn’t have a few more shoes not to be worn, but because of the importance I still gave to those little things. I looked around and on the Avenue, the Christmas glitter seemed to draw an abundance like those backpacks full of life, like my huge suitcase full of nothing.

That couple stayed behind while passing by others, thinking about contradiction and ready judgments. I never thought this theory that everyone is the same was correct, I never wanted to judge anyone without knowing each other’s reality.

They were not the ones who were out of step with the brightness of the Avenue, but the opposite. I remembered how the news I saw at a glance spoke of how many had entered misery with the loss of jobs and how much I complained about mine.

The next day I stopped again at the store, bought some comfortable shoes while I listened to the waitress without haste. I smiled when she thanked me for my return. I was glad she sold these and the other shoes. I followed the Avenue and stopped at the couple’s crate or foot and gave a bag with those and others of my hottest shoes. I had seen the soles of the girl’s shoes already on. I didn’t want a thank you, actually I wanted to apologize without judgment for me having and complaining and they have nothing.

And still, I don’t know if who passes and sees and manages to continue their dreams without looking around won’t be miserable anymore, from whom thanks every gesture of humanity.