How he felt
Back at the green shelter, Kevin sank onto the same bench the old man had sat on earlier. He ran his hand slowly across the rough wooden seat, imagining what the man must have felt, waiting there every morning with the dress. Kevin’s eyes scanned the passing traffic and scattered pedestrians, half-expecting the man to reappear. But the stop remained strangely quiet, the dress and its mysterious owner nowhere to be seen. The emptiness unsettled him deeply.
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