A Wish for Better Days

“A Wish for Better Days”

English Composition 1

December 29, 2005

He sits on the curb dreaming of better days. He dreams of having a life again. He longs for new clothes, a hot shower, and a warm bed to sleep in. Someday he will have a job again. If only he could get a job. No place will hire you without an address, or a shower for that matter. For now it is all just a dream.

The lines on his tan face have become very deep. Deep worries cause deep lines. The creases on his forehead don’t go away anymore. This causes him to have a continuous scowl on his face. Dust and grime are embedded deep in the wrinkles. Being out in the elements turned his face a dark leathery tan. His complexion is no longer soft it is dry and taught, he hasn’t shaved in over a week.

His brown eyes no longer have the bright sparkle they once had. They are sunken and dull, you can see the endless stream of worries if you look closely enough. The bags under his eyes are swollen today, maybe from the cheap wine of last night. The lack of sleep on the streets has caused large dark brown bags to form. The continuous squint of not having his glasses makes it almost impossible to see the brown eyes within. His eyebrows used to be well maintained and trimmed. Now, the peppery colored brows stick out resembling two small horns beginning to grow.

You can’t tell if his hair is still their or if the worries have taken their toll and thinned it. There are a handful of small, gray, wisps of hair darting out from under his hat. His grungy old stocking cap has seen better days. You can no longer tell where one color ends and the next begins, the lines are no longer crisp. The flaps that cover the ears are still there, but the ties that hang from them are long gone. The ties probably broke off after years of wear.

Although he wears a sports coat, it is just as worn as the rest of his attire. The sleeves are much too short, not even covering his thin boney wrists. The jacket is a tan color, thus not showing the dirt quite as bad, but the shine of the material is long gone. The years that he has worn it, it has never been washed, and of course, dry cleaning is out of the question. The elbows are beginning to thin and are no longer smooth and silky, this material is not meant for this harsh wear.

His baggy pants that are two sizes too big and make him look frail. This is the size he used to wear, that was then. He is very small in stature and his life on the streets has caused quite a bit of weight loss. His pants are held up with an old shoe string that was found in the gutter. They hang loosely around his boney thighs and calves covering his shoes and dragging on the ground. There is a crease at the bottom of the legs, in the rain he cuffs them to keep them a little dryer. The fabric is worn almost through in the seat, soon he will need a different pair of pants.

There is a hole in the toe of his right shoe where the sole has separated from the upper of the old tennis shoes. The tennis shoes were found in a trash can next to a basketball court. The soles are worn completely smooth, soon they will be worn all the way through. When it rains his feet get wet and there is a definite stench that arises from the old shoes. The odor embarrasses the man, so he takes the shoes off to dry as soon as the rain stops.

His hands are never still, always fidgeting with this or that. They are large for the size of him. They are, like his face, very tan and leathery looking. There is a lot of dirt and grime under all of his nails, and the nails are much too long for a man. He used to

work with his hands. You see the thick calluses on his palms and the scars on the backs of his knuckles. The very tip of his right pinky finger is missing, perhaps in a work accident.

He tries to keep himself presentable. He washes his clothes as often as he can, however, it is not often enough. He realizes there is an odor about him. The smell of cigarette smoke, sweat, and bad breath, combined with the little bit of Old Spice cologne arise all around him. As you walk by the odor hangs in the air and it takes you a moment to realize what it is. The odor is so strong it leaves a bad taste in your mouth. He realizes this, but is unable to change it.

As he sits on the curb lost in thought, people hustle by, not taking any notice of the man that is down on his luck. He used to be one of those people hustling by, never thinking of the man on the curb. He used to have a job and a place