The young man was smoking a cigarette outside his apartment complex, minding his own business, when he noticed an older man just standing there, looking at him intently. The look on his face was difficult to decipher – he looked angry and upset. The young man, of course, didn’t care, so he flicked out his cigarette out and went home. He forgot about the old man within a couple of minutes.

The young man liked to go outside for his smokes. He liked to feel the chill of the winter air on his face – it helped him think clearly. He could often be found strolling through the streets, a cigarette in his lips, lost deep in thought. He worked in the software industry. He was reasonably happy with his job, but he had always had this unshakable feeling inside him that he was meant to do something bigger, something better. He liked to think of himself as a writer – he wanted to be famous one day.

***

He caught the same old man staring at him a couple of days later. Same as before, he was just standing there, staring at him. He looked gaunt and a bit pale, like he hadn’t slept in a while. The constant stare disconcerted the young man a little, so he decided to confront the old man.

“Is there a problem, sir?” He walked up to the old man and asked.

The old man seemed not to have heard the question. He just stood there, without moving. His eyes were out of focus.

“IS there a problem, SIR?” The young man repeated, louder than before. That seemed to jolt the old man back to his senses. He dropped his gaze and started walking away, muttering something under his breath. The young man let it go.

That night he thought about it, though. He couldn’t figure out what the old man was up to, but the staring was starting to hit a nerve.

***

The young man noticed the old man a few times over the next few weeks. He noticed that he always walked slowly, with his head hung low and shoulders drooping. He saw that he often bumped into things and other people.

It started raining heavily one night, just as the young man was getting back from work. He didn’t have an umbrella, so he started jogging. As he rushed to enter the building, he saw the old man standing slouched against a wall, letting the ice-cold rain drench him completely, making no attempt to move out of the way. The sight disconcerted him a little, but he quickly rushed inside.

Without realizing it and without knowing why, the young man felt a tinge of pity.

***

The young man was walking home late on a Thursday evening, feeling happy about the work he’d done, a cigarette in his lips as usual, when he suddenly saw the old man walking out of the apartment complex. As the young man walked towards him, the old man turned and looked directly at him. There was a sudden look of recognition on his face. Then he saw the cigarette and something changed in him. He moved forward with energy the young man had never seen in him before. Before he could react, the old man raised his arm and landed a tight slap on his face. He dropped his cigarette.

The young man was completely taken by surprise, and before he knew what was happening, the old man slapped him once more, harder than before. That made him come to his senses, and he blocked the old man before he could land a third blow.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The young man shouted. “The only reason I’m not hitting you back is because of your age!”.

The old man seemed taken aback by the young man’s show of resistance. He looked at his face again, and something suddenly changed in him. The sudden burst of energy that had taken over him died out, and the fire went out of his eyes. His hands dropped, his head bowed down, and he said, “I’m so sorry, my son,” before he turned and walked away, trembling.

The young man pulled out another cigarette and quickly lit it, trying to control his rising anger. As he started pacing, he noticed the security guard. He had been there the whole time, but made no attempt to intervene.

“What the FUCK, man? Why were you just standing around?” His anger shifted to the security guard.

“Don’t you know what happened?”  The guard asked, tentatively.

“What has happened? That man has gone mad – that’s what’s happened!”

“Sir, that man lost his son today. He had lung cancer. He looked a lot like you, sahib. Similar age, similar height, similar face.”

The young man was left speechless. He felt an inexplicable sense of guilt, though he knew he had done nothing at all. He instinctively flicked out his cigarette and started pacing around, trying to process what he had just heard. Not knowing what else to do, he left an anonymous card and wreath on the old man’s doorstep – more for himself than for the old man.