THE ASHES OF OUR FORGOTTEN PAST WILL SOMEDAY WAKE THE GHOSTS WE LEFT BEHIND

The grey concrete of the downtown avenue radiated a stifling mid-afternoon heat, mixing with the exhaust of passing cabs. Julian stood frozen with his heavy black backpack digging into his right shoulder, staring down at the frail elderly man sitting on a stained piece of cardboard. Julian wore his dark blue hoodie despite the warmth, its sleeves pushed up slightly to reveal lean forearms. He held out a white takeaway food container and a clear plastic water bottle, keeping his posture calm and deliberate.

"Sir, I saw you sitting here, please have this," Julian said softly, his voice cutting through the ambient city noise.

The elderly man, whose unkempt grey hair and messy beard framed a deeply weathered face, did not reach for the food. Instead, his cloudy blue eyes snapped upward with an intensity that made Julian instinctively step back. The old man’s hands, trembling beneath an old brown jacket, clenched into tight fists against his worn blue jeans.

"Keep your charity, boy," the old man rasped, his voice scraping like gravel across pavement. "I don’t want your pity, and I certainly don't want your food."

Julian frowned, his jaw tightening as frustration flickered across his features. He knelt down to eye level, refusing to back down from the sudden hostility. "It’s just a hot meal and water. There are no strings attached. Why are you acting like this?"

"Because I know what’s inside that container," the old man whispered fiercely, leaning forward until his face was inches from Julian’s. "And more importantly, I know your father never taught you how to peel an orange with a knife."

Julian’s breath hitched in his throat, the plastic water bottle slipping slightly in his grip. His father had died fifteen years ago in a classified laboratory fire. No one outside of government security clearance knew how his father prepped fruit.

"Who the hell are you?" Julian demanded, his voice rising in sudden, sharp anger. "How do you know that?"