Hollow Man

He stands in the middle of the crowd as the insignificant people go about their insignificant lives. No one notices that he is empty on the inside. Waiting to be filled with love and knowledge. Pain and ignorance. His eyes are all dryed up. The tears are already gone, only the salt staining his shirt remains. One of the faceless drones makes contact ever so briefly. A carless mistep, not a gesture of kindness. The warmth of flesh on flesh is enough to spark a inferno of desire. The passions of the clumsy man fill his thoughts, and he day dreams of the mistress he never had, the wife that is meeting with her attorney next week, and the child neither would conceive. Such waste.

His hand reaches out and brushes against the cheek of woman. She reflexively moves away, but the moment is happening. Her thoughts become his, and he is repulsed by his own touch. So young, to young to die. The cancer was in her lungs though. Her mother had taught her so much, to be strong, but the smoke on her breath blackened her daughter's lungs. Pain. He held on for a moment longer. Smiling that he could feel something. Just one more.

The hollow man stepped out into traffic and the flood of people passed over him. Emotions and trials washed over him. Like a tidal pounding in his chest. All moving on with their own worries, and dreams. Not the empty man. Their pain filled him like a sweet wine soaking the throat of a man dying of thirst in the dessert. A starving man finding a platter of the finest meats. Only to have them be a half crazed dream. He went home to be alone. To stare into the void inside of himself.