A week later, I sincerely regretted my kind deed of giving a homeless man a bowl of hot soup out of sympathy
I saw him for the first time on my way to work around two weeks ago. A man in his 30s who appears to be quite normal at first glance—clean but shabby clothes, an unshaven face, and a vacant gaze. I wasn’t really listening at the time. But he was still there when I went outside to summon him as my time at the bar was coming to a close.
My bones were immediately chilled by the wind, which was already stinging. He wasn’t even looking for a place to stay. I approached him because I couldn’t take it any longer.
“Good evening. Are you all right? Do you require assistance? Shall I give someone a call? When I asked, a strong odor suddenly hit me, causing me to back off.
He gave me a somewhat contrite face and said, “No, thank you. There’s no wind, which is why I’m here. Do I stand in the way?
“No, you are not obstructing… However, since this morning, have you been here?
Nearly. To get warmed up, I made a few trips into the store.
“Did you manage to consume any food?”
“I purchased bread and am slowly nibbling on it.”
Why aren’t you at home, I wonder? I was compelled to ask.
His eyes lowered:
“A home does not exist.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to feel sorry for him.
“Hold on a minute.”
I walked inside and used my staff discount to get him a heated lunch. At least he had a roof over his head when I sat him on the veranda. He hardly raised his eyes as he ate in quiet. He had left by the time I got out to close up.
I had no idea at the time that I would later have such a strong remorse for that kind deed.
That homeless man returned the following day. The following day, too. And once more. He waited, sitting in the same place. And I thought it was my responsibility to feed him. Each and every time. That’s how it continued for over a week.
I was unable to continue. I didn’t have enough money to feed someone continuously. Customers were complaining about his overwhelming odor, and I was on the verge of being fired by management. However, how could I let someone who was without hope know that he wasn’t welcome here?
So I plucked up the guts to find him a place to stay. He would be taken in and fed at a homeless shelter.
He has a warm bed, food, and a roof over his head now. I still question, though, if I was correct to take him there and cease assisting him.
I don’t know how to cope with how broken I feel.
A week later, I deeply felt bad about my considerate act of providing a bowl of hot soup to a homeless man out of compassion.
About two weeks ago, I saw him for the first time on my way to work. An unshaven face, a vacant expression, and clean but scruffy clothes make this man in his 30s seem perfectly normal at first glance. At the time, I wasn’t paying much attention. But as my time at the pub was nearing to an end, I went outside to call him, and he was still there.
The wind, which was already hurting, instantly chilled my bones. He wasn’t even trying to find lodging. I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I went to him.
