By Jeffrey A. Paolano
Below the cerulean hue, pressured by the unfiltered blast of the noonday sun, the man in that instant feels a nausea pass, a lightheadedness generating a woozy and a faint.
A hand fling allows for a grasp on a stanchion. Thus steadied, he maintains without folding into collapse.
Passersby provide quizzical glances and disapproving scowls, sans either empathy or assistance.
An elder retrieves the man’s dropped bag. He steadies the man, grasping under an armpit. “Whoa, son, you alright? Need a seat? You OK?”
With vision obscured by intense bright light, the man grabs the bag. Sternly masked, he stumbles on.
I like this twist on the Good Samaritan story: In this case, the Good Samaritan is summarily dismissed and the younger man carries on, alone. A Winner.
Mr. Warner:
Thanks for the support from a fellow scribbler.
Jeff