A new friend

On Monday, I made a new friend.
Today, I talked to him.

He is 40 years old. He has a heavy Mainland Chinese accent, but speaks simply of seasons. He wears several rings on his fingers, which are often in motion as he gesticulates wildly. His actions do not seek attention as they stay within an imaginary box, as if I were looking through glass.

I listened to him speak. There was so much noise around that I could scarcely concentrate on what he was saying, but I did my best. He told me about his job, his family, and everyday life. He works from 6am every day for 11 hours, and receives a minimum wage of $30. He spoke fondly of his family and daughter, who is entering university back in China. He smiled to himself. His heavy accent smothers his words occasionally, but he continues speaking. He showed me the scars on his face and forehead from a traffic accident he got a few years back. They were almost gone now, but I could still see them on his temple.

He spoke of each season, like it was magical. Winter falls 30 degrees below where he comes from, but there is snow, snow up to the knees. He hasn't been home in years; there isn't enough money. The exchange rate does much for him, and his daughter needs to pay for her university. He spoke sadly of how much it costs to study and live here.

He works as a cleaner.