He had no face for me. Just a pleading voice and a dirty shirt.
My automatic head shake made him scurry away and I went into the store. But it bothered me, the faceless man. I was shivering and dressed in a sweater, jeans and a jacket. He had only old chinos and flannel shirt.
I tried to shop but his ‘non-face’ kept jumping in front of me. I decided I would find him when I was done and buy him something to eat. I didn’t want to give him money because I thought he would just buy alcohol with it. I couldn’t in good conscience contribute to that – but I could feed him.
I tapped my foot as I waited for the cashier to ring up my few purchases, trying to spy a glimpse of him outside. I didn’t see him – but I was sure he was still hanging around the Starbuck’s, waiting. He knew I was coming back.
Finally, purchases rung up and paid. Out the door. I still didn’t see him. I walked to Starbuck’s looked inside and out. No one. No faceless man there. I walked through the entire mini-mall looking for the red flannel shirt and beat up chinos.
The whind whipped at my face and my hands stung from the cold. Did the wind gust him away? Flying him back into the abyss for whence he came? How could one, faceless man disappear so quickly. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes.
He was gone. Leaving no trace of himself or his direction. Yet, I stood at the open door of my car and scanned a few more times, believing in some part of me that he would appear. He didn’t.
Reluctantly, I got into the car and turned the ignition. The heater blasting, the music soothing, the whine of the wind outside, rocking the car. I gave up hope of him and put the gear to drive the few blocks home. Mad at myself for not realizing that I should have looked at him. I should have gotten him a sandwich and a hot cup of coffee. Wondering how many faceless men were hungry that night because of head shakers like me.
copyright 2006
Sarah Flanigan's Pure Fiction 
It seems I always want to do the right thing a moment too late, as well. Beautifully put.
yes, it is funny how life can sometimes make you work against your own instincts.
sarah
Lived in DC. Broke my heart that I didn’t have a million sandwiches, million shirts, million coffees, a million anythings to offer. Someday?
maybe…someday. i hope so.
sarah
Sadly, he probably would have refused the offer of food. Chances are he did indeed only want the money for booze or worsel
But I understand how you feel. But if it makes you feel any better, given the state of the world we live in, you will doubtless have countless other opportunities to show your generosity. There are many faceless men out there.
-Smith
yes, there are. and i don’t dispute that there are those who perhaps have placed themselves there and perhaps deserve their fate. but i think what bothers me most is that we, as a nation have become numb to our fellow man. not because we haven’t invented millions of ‘programs’ etc via our government – but because we seem not to feel anything when we see these disposable humans. we’re okay with them being disposable. i think that is what bothers me most.
sarah
Did you ever think this is one of those significant moments where you turn your back on an angel or something like that? Not to freak you out or anything but it’s what popped into my mind after the narrator’s desperate need to find him once again. Something in her subconscious made her want to go back and do something, anything to help.
This was good, sorry I missed it before. Kim
yes, i did think of that. a moment too late. i’m glad you found it. 😉
sarah