good night, good luck

on the way home, i always pass by an elderly house on the porch of which some old men congregate when the weather is clement. every time i pass, one of them lively greets and wishes me luck - always. at first i felt sorry for him and his abandoned condition, until one day steve made me notice that this man looks content and relaxed: he is got his fags, beer, not a care in the world, except making conversation with the passer-byes.

tonight when i was coming back from work at an indecent 7pm for a friday night, he was there smiley and cheerful and ready to spit his "good night". PAUSE. "good luck". i truly felt my life looking miserable to his eyes and his wishes more than a courtesy. i can't blame him: he always sees me coming back quite late at night, full of bags, with deep eye circles and on my own...