The Anguished Man

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Vietnam3SoldiersHe was sitting there, his face appearing tired and worn; his clothes clean, but torn.

In his hand he held an old faded ball cap, and a small cat lay sleeping peacefully on his lap.

Lots of people were rushing by, but it was me who caught the strange man’s eye.

He smiled, then I smiled, but like all the others, I too quickly passed by.

“Mommy,” my daughter said to me, “What’s wrong with that man? Why does he sit out here all alone? And why does he look so sad?”

“I don’t know,” I guiltily replied. Curious, I stopped and glanced back. His head bent low as his hands were busy fingering shiny letters on his ball cap.

Instinctively I knew. It wasn’t hard to see. He was a  man of sacrifice and pain, now a misfit of society.

Then, carefully and meticulously, he placed his ball cap on his head, and then began to gently stroke the back of his beloved pet.

It was then I read the words of those shiny letters,

“Vietnam Vet.”

-Lisa N. Phillips

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