He could no longer feel the wintry wind blowing against his pale, bare skin. The wet tears that had escaped his eyes felt like they were permanently frozen to his cheeks. His toes were curled inside his worn-down trainers where a hole was forming on the bottom of the right sole.

He pulled the thin blanket tighter against his trembling body and let out a shaky breath, watching as it left his lips and evaporated into the cold air. It didn’t matter what position he rolled himself, it was impossible to feel comfortable on the concrete floor.

Three inches away from his face was a medium-sized McDonald’s cup which held all his wealth in the world. He didn’t need to count how much was in that plastic cup, it was the same amount as this morning, no more or no less than £2.56. It didn’t matter how many times he wished the thousands of footsteps going past him a “good day”, they would rarely stop, with many not acknowledging his presence and turning a blind eye. His empty stomach churned painfully, reminding him that he hasn’t had a proper meal in four days. 

How did it come to this?

The minutes that passed felt like hours and the hours that passed felt like days. The last time he counted, it had been 27 days since he had a conversation with someone, 86 days since he slept in a bed and even longer since he cherished the warm touch and kindness of another person.

Too much time has passed now and he could no longer foresee a positive future. There’s no-more coming back from this. He has accepted that this is where he will die one day. Just like every day, no one will think twice about the man lying in the doorway of a multi-million store.

A pair of police officers will later approach him with the intention of urging him elsewhere but will end up making a call to the morgue where his corpse will be left unclaimed. For how long, he does not know. 

Despite the busy street and horns blaring, he was losing the fight to stay awake and felt his eyelids getting heavier. The distant sound of sirens growing louder did not phase him. He loosened the grip on his blanket and welcomed the cold air as it pierced through his unkempt and numb body.

Follow me on Instagram to read more flash fiction.

More sad flash fiction:


4 thoughts on “Numb

  1. Your post reminds me of the present situation of our less fortunate brothers and sisters in Manila. The streets become their homes during nights.How horrible!Thinking of them makes me weep in sadness.But I love your post,surreal and truthful,my dear.

    Liked by 3 people

    • I’m happy to hear that you liked this story, thank you for your lovely comment. That’s the exact concept I had in mind when writing this short story and I’m really happy that you had the same image too. It is terrible that people have to live like this. We must help wherever possible ❤

      Liked by 4 people

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s