Old man coffee shop

Every time I went into that coffee shop, the old guy was there. He was kind of musty looking, as though everything he owned was perpetually just pulled out of a closet for the first time in years. His face was covered in warts and wrinkles and always had a haggard, blank expression. I suspect he didn't have much money, because he sat there for hours and nursed a single small cup of coffee. You've probably seen him or someone like him dozens of times.

My girlfriend and I always used to speculate why he sat there all day long, what his life was like.

"He's an ex-con," she would say matter-of-fact.

"No way," I would counter. "He's clearly homeless."

On and on we would go and come up with increasingly elaborate explanations. A space alien! Overnight security guard! Ex-POW!

Finally our curiosity got the better of us and we decided to ask him. Or rather, she decided I should ask him while she watched from nearby. I never could say no to her, so I plucked up my courage and made my way over to him.

"Hi," I started out, hesitant. He didn't hear me, or else assumed I was talking to someone else. No one ever approached him.

"How are you?" I said, trying again. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee or something?"

He looked up at me now with his yellowing eyes with an almost bemused expression.

"Leave me alone," he said in a thick, hoarse voice. But there was an almost lifeless quality behind it, as if he didn't care one way or another. So I tried again.

"C'mon, how about a bagel or something?" I said hopefully.

He sighed softly, said "a'right," and I went to get it.

I came back and he said "Thanks," in the same gruff but lifeless tone.

"So..what's your story? How come you always hang out here?"

He frowned and you could see the bottom row of his remaining yellowed teeth. He looked dead in my eyes with his almost pure black pupils as he said:

"I devoted my whole life to my family. Worked like a dog down at the factory. We had a daughter and she was the light of my life. I would do anything to buy her anything she wanted. Then my wife was pregnant again. We had a boy. Unfortunately, she died of a blood hemorrhage but my son survived. Event I was stricken by the loss my children kept me focused. After a period of mourning, I took joy out of making my kids happy.

There was an accident. We were crossing a green on our way home from a movie, one of the rare nights off I got. Another car smashed into us going 100 miles an hour. The back was totaled and the kids were dead instantly, heads crushed and bodies mangled so badly there was barely anything to bury. The driver of the other car, a drunk, was also dead, his head bashed open against the windshield. I was lucky, and survived with two broken legs. But it didn't matter. There was no reason left to live.

I devoted my life to my family. I gave up everything I had and lost it all in an instant. So I sit here, day by day, and wait for the end. There's not a day since I don't wish I had been killed with them."

With that, he got up and left, leaving me sitting there stunned. I watched him leave and go out into the streets. As he walked away, he fixed me with a lifeless glance one more time before he disappeared forever.