White Cane

After school, I saw a blind man on the metro, out on his own. As far as I can remember, that was the first time. He had a large backpack on, with another bag set beside his hand. I don’t know what kind. He was a middle-aged man, dressed in something like office wear, his hair silvery white. At first I hadn’t noticed him at all, until I saw that he was holding a stick that didn’t look like a hiking pole. He held the stick in one hand, standing it on the floor, his head half lowered, one brow resting against it, his eyes half open, half shut, twitching unnaturally.

When the train stopped, he opened his eyes, raised his head, and looked up. His eyeballs looked normal. I thought then that he wasn’t blind, that it was a hiking pole he was holding. But he soon lowered his head again, and his eyes went on twitching.

Later, he left.