Have you ever seen him before?
The Raggedy Man?
There's short, disoriented man, who is covered in rags he picked up from the street, surrounding him with their dampened colors and defining the hunch of his back. His gray woolen sweater, thinning from its age, was starting to unravel. His wrinkled brown palms were barely wrapped with wool and his fingers stuck out, shivering as they felt the cold winter air. A washed out red beanie sagged on his head, patting down the lightning white frizz and bobbing as he walks down the street.
Have you seen the way he walks?
His baggy jeans are always scuffing the frozen sidewalk. Even through the gray air and dim lights, you can spot his limp.
There, don't you see it?
Right there, just below his right leg's knee, you can see his foot drag a bit, leaving a ghost of a trace in the snow. Just a second slower than the left.
Can you see the slight shift of his body as he walks?
Can you hear the heavy thump from his left heel as he walks?
Despite his downcast eyes he seemed to emit a former glory. A glory that was once so proud and bright, it left wisps around his current body.
But what once could walk evenly on two feet, straight and tall, was no longer there.
It had suffered through a war, and it could now barely walk on one.