Everyday, they walked past. Nobody paid attention to the homeless man on the corner. His presence, blended into the dank foliage of autumn. No one noticed when he sat forlorn and forgotten- a decrepit mass of human flesh- usually sipping from a bottle of cheap gin-wrapped in a brown paper bag.
He had been a father once, a valid member of society. But now, he wore a cloak of invisibility.
His tattered shoes were all he left behind- an ambulance carting his carcass away in the night.
Still, no one noticed.

©Vivian Zems

Friday  Fiction with Rochelle

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