He is crying

It's a cold winter evening, you're walking home from work and see a man walking down the alley towards you.

He wraps himself in a fur coat that has no belt, so he can walk without holding it with his hands. Walking slowly, he looks at his feet, wincing from the cold, and, holding onto the ends of the fur coat, he buries his cheeks in the fur collar attached to his neck.

He has nothing with him, as if he was rushing off somewhere. You stand there, looking at him, and as he gets closer, you notice tears in his eyes. Apparently, this evening hasn't gone very well for him, even badly.

You stared at him, not noticing how quickly the distance between you was closing. A few minutes of staring, and he crashed into you. You both pushed off each other and fell. His shocked face looked at you, and you looked back at him, just as shocked.

• Sorry, I wasn't looking at the road ahead.

He said quietly, rising from the sidewalk.

he is crying