The old man in the subway

Everyday I take the same metro to work, from the same stop to the same stop. I ride the same car, at the same time, and not once have I ever seen the same face. Except for the old man in the subway.

He sits on the steps of the station I exit out of. Everyday he wears the same beige pants, the same tweed jacket, the same blood-red scarf, and the same bowler's cap. And they are always pristine.

Sometimes I think that he's just a normal guy, sitting on the steps to take a break from his day. But then I notice the little pan by his side for people's spare change.

I always want to give him something, but I rarely have anything to give. Except for today.

I saw him from a distance and instantly reached into my purse. I pulled out my wallet and from it I withdrew a 2 euro coin. I held it in my hand as I approached him, and politely bent down to put it in his change pan once I reached him. I looked up to his face, and he just stared at the ground, oblivious to the fact that I was there, or that I had just placed 2 euros into his pan that had only up until then held 30 centimes.

I wanted to give him a hug.

But I didn't. I just stood up, and headed up the stairs...

Several hours later, he was gone. I looked for him around the station, but he was nowhere to be found. I wonder how the rest of his day went. I wonder if he got himself something good to eat, perhaps drink. I wonder if I made any difference in his day...