Karma

I heard the rattle. It sounded like a window, but why? It's a perfectly calm evening with no wind. Why would my window be rattling? Maybe I imagined it. I went back to my reading when it happened again. I know it was not imagined. I stood up and went to the bedroom window and pulled the blinds. There, standing outside, was a man. He was roughly my height and build, and appeared to be homeless. His hair and beard were wild and unkept, and his clothes were ragged. I cracked the window open and asked " Have you been knocking on my window?" " Yes sir. I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, much less at all, but I need some help." He says. Well of course you need help I thought. The homelessness in Seattle was a growing problem that didn't seem to have an end. At least twice a week I was approached by someone asking for money. Of course on occasion I would give them by spare change or singles, usually before they started in with their sob stories. I do not enjoy listening to them trying to get sympathy. Though this would be the first someone had come up to my house.

"Why didn't you knock on my front door?" I asked. He replied " I tried but you didn't answer. I saw the light on in this room and decided to try the window." It was true that I normally could not hear the front door from my bedroom in the back of the house. Those man must be desperate if he came around to the window. "Well I assume it is money you're looking for? I asked, wanting to finish the exchange so I could get back to my book. "Please. Our even just a meal for the night. All of the shelters are full, so I can't get anything there. I just need something to get me till the morning." As he talked, I looked at him a little closer. He seemed familiar but I couldn't imagine why. I don't know anybody that's homeless. The only thing I could think of was maybe I had seen him before on one of the frequented corners.

" I usually check the dumpster behind the restaurant in 5th Ave. They usually toss quite a bit of extra food and it's always in a box so it stays relatively clean. But there was some police activity over there and I didn't want to get involved." I imagined having to dumpster to feed myself and immediately felt nausea. " Ok meet me at the front door, I have a little cash in my wallet I can give you." " Oh thank you sir!" He exclaimed. He was genuinely happy by my help.

I closed the window and blinds and made my way to the front of the house where I left my wallet on the kitchen table. I was feeling generous, and so grabbed the $10 and went to the door. I opened it to find the man standing on the stoop. As I looked at him, I was struck again by the sense of familiarity I felt earlier but much stronger. Something about the set of his eyes and the expression on his face. I shrugged it off and handed him the money. " Here you go. That should get you enough to fill your belly."

" Thank you so much. You don't know how much I appreciate you doing this." I smiled and took a step back preparing to shut the door, when he pointed at my overgrown garden and said " You know, I used to do landscaping. It was a long time ago but not a skill that really expires. It was always a very satisfying job to me." He smiled. " Yea I just don't have the time to get out here and do the work." I replied. " Well I could do it for you for a small fee. Whatever you would be willing to pay. I'll do it for this $10 to earn your generosity" I stared at the man for a moment. Most experiences I had with the homeless were people always asking for money, never wanting to actually change their situation. This man seemed as though he really didn't want to take my money, only asking for survivals sake. He would be more inclined to accept a job offer to get back on his feet. This man wanted real help. Thinking of the leftovers I had , enough for two people, I said "Why don't you come inside? I can make us some food and then we can talk some more about your offer." He stared at me for a second without responding. To drive the point, I stood back and held the door open more to give him room to enter. " Oh well thank you so much sir." He said as he walked in. I shut the door behind him. "I can show you to the kitchen." As we walked, I noticed him looking around a bit. The house I owned was not large. It was a two bedroom, one and a half bath, sparsely decorated. You could tell there was not a women living here. However, to this man this probably seemed like luxury. Beats sleeping in a shelter. Or under a bridge.

I led him to the kitchen and opened the fridge. "I hope you like lasagna. Though I suppose you're probably not too picky. I could probably do some homemade garlic bread too if..." My words were cut off as I felt a pain in my neck and something hot and wet trickle down my throat. I lifted my hand and brought back blood. I turned around and saw the man standing there with my chefs knife. I looked into his eyes, and in that moment, I knew why he looked so familiar. His face was blank as he watched me. I dropped to my knees as I felt myself getting dizzy. I looked into his soulless eyes one more time. "Son?"