The rain poured down, battering cobblestones and paved roofs. He sat in the middle of it all, a tragic and forlorn creature of drooping shoulders and dismally dripping hair. His once proud posture was all sunken in, and every now and then a sniffle worked its way past his defenses.
Passersby glanced uneasily at the miserable warrior as a whimper and then another escaped him. Soon he gave up and began to wail, and the open window above him responded only with a clanging of shutters and a chastising boot. A kind person, feeling the it necessary to rise above this demonstrated indifference, stopped to ask what was the matter.
"He left!" the young man sobbed, lifting swimming, heartbreaking eyes. "He said he'd come back, but he didn't, and he," this with a wavering finger at the firmly closed shutters, "says he'll kill me if I come inside! He's left me all alone!"
Recoiling in anger, the good citizen demanded, "What does he look like?"
The young man sniffed again, and hiccoughed hopefully, and answered. "He's got a green shirt."
"I'll find him," declared this good Samaritan with determination, and turned, and nearly walked into a green shirt with shopping bags, and a face whose departure could certainly be counted a tragedy.
"Pardon me," its wearer said politely, and on hearing this the young man jumped to his feet.
"Hakkaaaaaaaaaaaai! I've been waiting forever for you to get back with the groceries, and Sanzo threw a shoe at me, and I'm sooooooooooooo hungry!"
[end]