He sat there, beer half gone.Burger on the way.
Out the window, a long-haired, bearded man walked by — not fast, not slow, just carrying the day on his shoulders like an old coat. Homeless, probably. Hard to tell anymore. Everyone looked a little lost these days.
The man stopped at the curb, stared at the traffic like he was weighing whether to cross or just keep standing still.
Inside, the hum of conversation was soft, harmless. The kind of talk that filled space but didn't mean anything. The bartender wiped the same corner of the counter again and again, eyes on nothing.
He took another sip. Warm. Bitter. The ice in his water had melted.
"Why the fuck is he there and me here?"The words came out low, maybe not even aloud.
He'd worked hard — that's what they said. Earned it. Played the game right. Saved enough, lost enough. Made all the approved mistakes in the proper order. But looking at that man outside, he couldn't shake the sense that the line between them wasn't hard, just thin.
Maybe one bad year.Maybe one worse choice.Maybe one night too many looking the other way.
The man outside turned, met his gaze through the glass. Not long, not dramatic — just a look. A kind of mirror held up for a second before the moment folded back into rain and exhaust.
He felt it — that flicker of recognition. Like seeing an old friend you'd wronged, or a version of yourself you'd left behind.
The burger came, thick and greasy, sitting heavy in its basket. He didn't touch it. The smell turned his stomach.
He pulled out his wallet. Crisp bills, orderly. Everything in its place. Years of keeping things neat. Keeping them together. He thought about giving one to the man outside, but it felt too easy, too cowardly — like tossing a coin in the river to feel less guilty about the drowning.
So he didn't.He just watched.
The man crossed finally, moving between the headlights. Rain hit the glass harder now, a steady percussion.
He took a slow breath, ran a thumb along the edge of his napkin. The question still sat there — heavy, unanswered, unwelcome.
Why him there?Why me here?
Maybe there was no reason. Maybe the dice were just thrown once, long ago, and everyone's still waiting to see how they land.
He finished the beer. The bartender asked if he wanted another. He thought about it, about the taste of it, about how it dulled the edge but never took it away.
"No," he said finally."Just the check."
The rain kept coming down.Outside, the man was gone.