She tried to forget him, but never could.

She woke up, rubbed her eyes, and tried to blink away the eyes from her dream. The same dark eyes she tried to sleep away. She had wanted to forget them since the moment they found her stare a few days before.

Coffee. Coffee always helped her wake up and focus on the current day. She tapped the dusty grounds into the brewer and waited for the gurgle. Her hand touched the kitchen counter and she felt something gritty. Grounds must have spilled over the measuring cup when she was starting the pot. She rubbed her fingers together, feeling the grit against her skin. It looked dirty, unlike her typical pristine hands with soft skin and manicured nails. She closed her eyes, feeling those grains. Her mind shot back to the way his hands looked. Dirty. Rough. Worn.

She heard the coffee pot fill and blinked her eyes open. She knew once she would taste the caffeinated brew, she could focus on today. What was today? Tuesday? Wednesday? Whatever day it was, she knew she had to get groceries. She opened the fridge. The shelves were nearly empty, except for half a leftover sandwich, half a gallon of milk, and some apples.

Apples. He had an apple in one of those dirty hands. It was a red apple without much shine, but he was eating it anyway. She never did hear the crunch it should have made, but she did see him bite it once, twice, three....

Three beeps went off on the coffee pot to indicate it was finished. She closed the refrigerator door and turned around to pour herself a cup before running out the door. "I can figure out dinners and groceries this week at the store."

She got into her car and began her drive. Down Burgundy Road. Then Appletree Street. Left onto Walnut Path. It should be a right onto Maple to get her groceries, but her hands kept the steering wheel straight. Driving this way was like Deja Vu and she couldn't knock the feeling that autopiloted her there.

Bright blue forget-me-nots lined the side of the road as she petaled on. She realized she tried to forget the eyes, hands, face... the man she saw, but she couldn't shake her memory of him. No coffee, no amount of blinking or mind-sidetracking could. The stoplight in front of her ordered her to stop. She closed her eyes and gripped her wheel. The same stoplight flashed in her memory. Here she was, and here he should be.

She looked at her purse haphazardly thrown in the passenger's seat. She felt guilty reaching for the Chanel handle, her polished nails unfastening the clasp. Her wallet lay there, just happily waiting to be used. Her hands quickly moved the car from drive to park. She grabbed a handful of bills. 5s.... 10s... and a hefty amount of 20s.

She sucked in a breath and quickly opened her door. Cars honked as she stepped onto the asphalt, but she didn't care. She ran to the corner where she last saw him. She wanted to tell him that she noticed him. Even though she drove by several times a week without stopping, she noticed him. 

She wanted to tell him that she remembered his face and his spot. The sign he sometimes carries. She wanted to tell him sorry she couldn't do anything else but hand him money that he might use on something he probably shouldn't. She wanted to tell him that she wasn't always this comfortable in life, and one day, he too, will be in a better position.

But once her feet were on the grass on the corner of Walnut and Dyna, she noticed she was alone. She was so busy listing off what she wanted to say in her head, she forgot to look for him.

Down by her feet, she saw a dirty backpack. A torn drawstring held the bag loosely closed. Horns sounded off behind her. "Hey, lady, get in your car!" Someone yelled. 

She reached down to undo the drawstring. She couldn't help but think that at one time, her hands were just as dirty as that pack. She folded the bills in her hand and quickly placed them inside, hoping that he will use it for a hot meal. A hotel stay. A shower. A haircut. Something to make him more comfortable. But also knowing that he may use it on whatever will get him through the next day.

She tightened the drawstring back up and walked back to her car. Horns honked and the impatient man from before yelled, "Crazy lady!" from out his window. 

She put her car back in drive and turned at the stoplight. Back to Maple Street, where she should be getting her groceries.

She passed the patch of forget-me-nots on the side of the road again. She blinked, and this time she saw his whole face in her memory. She imagined him coming back and opening his pack when he needed to, finding the money she left behind. She had tried to forget him, but she couldn't. "Maybe tomorrow," she thought. "Maybe, tomorrow."