The next little country might be so close

the people could hear cocks crowing

and dogs barking there,

but they’d get old and die

without ever having been there. -Lao Tzu

Long days can shorten people. Living proof of this walked down the street on this cool, September night. The morning had seen him slightly bent by life. Twelve hours of sweat and grime later, he was bent almost to the ground. This slouched man knew a thing or two about bending; he was actually something of a professional bender; he worked at a cardboard factory. But for all his apparent brokenness, he was still in the best part of his day.

He poked his way into an apartment building and scampered up a couple flights of stairs with the hard energy of one who has the finish line in sight. A hallway door opened. Back at home base.

It was already late, so the embrace of the lone couch was postponed for another day. As the bent man moved his shoes across the mottled carpet, he underwent a most ordinary transformation. He stripped down to his boxers without ever losing momentum, heading unerringly towards the window. Tired clothes were dashed against the wall, causing dust to fly everywhere. The dust was not a concern to the man; it just added another layer to the dozens. Arriving at the window, he paused for a second. The filthy realness of the room made the clear window seem a bit mystic, like a portal. The moment passed, and he opened it and slithered through it, all with practiced nimbleness.

This man had no death wish. He was safe, and his behavior was typical. His now naked feet landed on the fire escape with a resounding bellow. It was not a happy fire escape. There was more rust than metal, and both materials were eager to sap the warmth from his body. Luckily, draped from rail to rail, a hammock was hung. For the last motion of his day, he hopped into its draped comforts. Despite his precarious position and the noise of the street below, sleep came quickly. The natural curve of the hammock was as thoroughly bent as the man.

*****

“—Hhhssss,” whistled the air as it passed my head; however, this whisper was too fast for a city wind. My eyes open to a beautiful sky, and I recalled a nylon snap. My arm was raked with something like sandpaper, and I saw that I was no longer confined by the safe walls of my fire escape; there was no hammock below me. I was free.

Then everything cracked—my ears were filled with the peals of a thousand bells; my back was hit by a massive sledge. The blue sky of the morning was flooded with the scarlet of sunset. Everything hurt.

As I tried rubbing the sunset from my eyes, I realized it was there to stay: my forehead was bleeding red from the embedded glass. The blood tainted my sight. I must have fallen, and—I shifted a bit and fell a couple feet further. My hand brushed against coarse rubber. I had landed on the front window of a car, and my body was pierced with glass.

I gazed up, through the window of the side door. The driver was even worse off than me; her eyes were filled with blood-streaked glass. Yet, she appeared utterly unfazed, like some sort of immutable specter. She was blinder than a blind man, for she couldn’t even see her own blindness. If not for the clear, sad shards sticking out of her eyes, I would guess that she was completely unaffected. Now that I was off of the hood, she drove forward calmly.

Unfortunately, she drove through a red light and was hit by a semi-truck. I now feel more confident that she was affected by this situation.

I crawled to the sidewalk. All I wanted was help—there was a lot of blood. However, I was destined to be disappointed; everyone was just like the driver. They ignored everything.

All the moving left me exhausted, so I used that last bit of strength to sit on a bench. After a few moments, I noticed that I was in the company of a roughly clad old man, likely homeless. I felt a bit of hope; he might have time to notice me. I waved at him, but to no avail. I reached over and shook the stolid figure. He turned slowly and spoke, “You don’t need help. Everyone is bent. It’s the nature of this country.” He turned away once more, as if nothing had happened. Before he did, I noticed that his eyes were red.

I was broken and bleeding in quite a few spots, but everything was hurting less. I didn’t really feel tired anymore, even as I became weaker and weaker. The blood started fading before my eyes: first, the red lost its full strength, then it was a genuine pink, then it became clear like water. It was kind of sad, but I was okay with that.

*****

The slouched man woke up in the rain. The water washed away his weariness; he squeezed through the window once more and stood up straight. He was already wet, so he skipped the morning shower. After a couple speedy minutes, he was back in his urban rags.

On his way to the factory, he decided to take a detour purely for its own sake. The sky had cleared just in time to reveal a beautiful pink sunrise, and this man wanted some time to enjoy it. As he walked along one block, examining his reflection in the glass of shop windows, he noticed a sad, clear tear on his face. Embarrassed, he wiped it off. However no one noticed, so he became calm once more. A slight smile crossed his face, and he began another day.