For months, Spencer walks past a homeless man outside a café, thinking there is something familiar about him. But still, she can’t put her finger on it. Except one day, she sees the man perform an emergency procedure on a pregnant woman, and suddenly, everything clicks. For months, I walked past the same homeless man outside the café, usually after picking up my morning coffee and a bagel. He was always there, quiet, tidy, and almost invisible in his routine. Instead, he would gather up any litter scattered along the street, sweeping it into the trash without a word. And when he wasn’t cleaning, he sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, reading books that people left behind in the café.
There was something different about him, though. He looked like a man who had fallen on hard times, but not the way most people do. Sad, yes, but he wasn’t bitter. It was as if life had dealt him a losing hand, but he was still playing. I couldn’t put my finger on why he stuck out to me. I’d see him there, day after day, and feel this nagging pull, like I knew him from somewhere. But I could never quite connect the dots.
I was just grabbing my coffee, getting ready to head out to the office, when I heard a crash behind me. I turned to see a pregnant woman on the floor, gasping, her face twisted in agony. Her husband was kneeling beside her, wild with panic.
“Help!” he screamed. “Someone, please! She can’t breathe!” The entire café froze. A dozen people stared, paralyzed with shock. I could feel the tension swelling, seconds ticking away like drops of water from a leaky faucet. He sprinted toward the woman, calm and focused, like someone with years of experience in medical emergencies. In one swift glance, he took in the scene. The woman’s lips were turning blue. She was gasping, clawing at her throat. Without missing a beat, he knelt beside her. “There’s no time,” he gasped.
“What the hell are you doing?” her husband screamed. “Get your hands off my wife, you filthy man!” The homeless man didn’t even flinch. “If I don’t do this, she’s going to die,” he said. “The paramedics won’t get here in time. I’m telling you. She only has minutes before she becomes unconscious. Do you want me to save her and the baby or not?” “I need alcohol, like vodka or something. Even sanitizer! And bring me a pen and a knife. Now! Quick!” he exclaimed loudly. Everyone in the café went still. For a moment, it felt like we were all holding our breath. Then, like magic, someone rushed to grab a bottle of sanitizer from the coffee station, while another person fumbled with a ballpoint pen from his pocket. The husband yanked a pocket knife from his bag and handed it over with trembling hands.
There was panic and fear in his eyes, it was clear to see. The homeless man worked quickly, steady and sure. I could only watch in silence as he disinfected the blade and disassembled the pen. His hands moved with practiced precision, like someone who’d done this a hundred times over.