I was walking down the subway station with my usual, bright disposition. There were homeless men, clad with sheets of blankets, cardboard boxes, newspapers and worn clothes. But I saw this slovenly, young boy. He had a small body. With an affable manner, I spontaneously encompassed him. However, when I saw his face, I was electrified by who he was.
It was Holden, who used to be my best friend back when we were in Elkton Hills together, sleeping in the subways station. His face showed a despondent expression. I quickly woke him up. He was in a turbulent, untidy situation.
“Hey, Holden, wake up!” I said while shaking him with my tremulous hands.
“Goddamn it, why did you… oh, Kun Hee, long time, no see,” He said, but he didn’t look surprised.
“What are you doing here, sleeping in the subway station? You look like a recluse!” I said. I took him to a café nearby, but I had to hurry up (I had a meeting to attend). As we walked towards the café, I saw that his clothes had an abrasion.
“Yeah, I had struggled these days,” he said.
In the café, he told me in a cursory manner, what has happened to him since he was flunked from Pencey Prep. I had to make a conjecture that he has been drinking, for his breath smelled like my alcoholic uncle John. His attitude was lackadaisical, and I could tell that he wasn’t glad that I came because he barely seemed like he was listening to me. In a brusque manner, he left the café with a lousy excuse and said that he had to go and meet someone pivotal. I was only trying to extricate him from his situation by giving him sage advicies.
