Tatterdemalion

"Keep walking, Jen. Just loook staight ahead. Make no eye contact," Kurt advised.

"That's rude. She's a person just like everyone else on the city sidewalks."

"Come on. She's dressed in rags and talking to herself. That's not just like everyone else."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I didn't realize I was with such an elitist, judgemental jerk." Jenny released Kurt's hand and trained her gaze on the homeless woman. At first she thought she was old, probably unable to support herself after retirement or after the death of her longtime spouse. But as she neared, Jen could see the youthfulness that had been covered by layers of filth. The woman had to be in her mid thirties.

Jenny left Kurt's side and veered toward the woman.

"Christ, Jen. What the hell are you doing?" Jenny didn't respond and spotted a park bench about five feet away from the woman. Kurt's remarks more than illustrated a first date gone wrong, but also touched a guilt of her own. Had Kurt said nothing, she probably would have kept walking and ignored this woman. Jenny didn't plan on confronting her, but she was close enough that the woman may confront Jenny, and perhaps, Jenny could confront her guilt.

Kurt wanted to asked Jenny if she was trying to make a new friend but realized that her physical distance from him would require a loud enough yell as to make a scene, so he swallowed his sarcasm and hovered by the newspaper stand.

It was easy for Jenny to stare at the homeless woman without being detected. The woman was so engrossed in conversation with herself, although Jenny could not decipher; it sounded like a foreign language. A gaunt woman, she didn't have as many wrinkles as Jenny had originally thought. Instead, her thin face was streaked with dirt, and her long, slightly frizzy hair seemed to be encased by a film of dust. She wore a few thin, dingy layers, too large for her small frame. As she gestured with her right hand while making a point, her clothes drooped to reveal a grayish-brown shoulder.

In his attempt to ignore Jenny, Kurt snuck a look at her, saw she was still by the homeless woman, rolled his eyes, and returned to his paper. He was on page five but had no idea what he had supposedly read.

The woman's quick turn toward Jenny startled her. Jenny did not look away, but it was clear that the woman was not looking at Jenny. Her eyes faced Jenny but were focussed on some nonexistent entity. She continued her rant, which was still unstranslatable. Jenny continued to stare. She couldn't help it. The woman's eyes drew her in. Everything else about the woman was dull, gray, brown. Easy to blend and ignore. Even her odd monlogue became particles of whitenoise. But her green eyes denied anything about homelessness, almost made Jenny feel as if the woman was completely sane to argue with herself in public. Almost.

By the time Jenny decided that the homeless woman would not approach her, she got up from the bench, rejoined the still bustling sidewalk traffic, and headed toward her apartment. She never once thought about Kurt. Instead her thoughts fixated on the woman and her green eyes. She hoped to see her again.