And with invisible fingers he reached toward me and lifted my face. Buried truths swarmed his invisible body, uprooting themselves, cracking the pavement which moved underneath us but upon which we stood, static. I watched as he dodged the torment of his own realities. My own hands furled into concrete fists of anger, and every atom in this space, each tiny unjust particle, I felt. They pricked my skin, startled my eyelids to shutter open and remain, transfixed, on the horrors I could not affect.
And somewhere, a few feet away, I caught in the sere shadows a glimpse of his pride. It lay in his footprint, crushed.