The impact was a dull thud followed by a sharp crack. The collision sent the old phone spinning from Adam's hand.
It seemed to hang in the air for a moment.
Then it landed on the hard pavement with a sickening sound. The screen popped out of the black plastic casing. It landed face down a few inches away from the phone's main body.
The device had already been fragile. Now it had finally given out completely.
Adam stared at the wreckage on the ground. His eyes were wide with disbelief. A sound escaped his lips. It was a low desperate groan.
"No, no… my phone."
He immediately dropped to his knees on the busy sidewalk. A woman walking past had to step around him. He did not notice her. His world had shrunk to the small pile of broken plastic and glass at his feet.
His hands reached for the pieces. They were clumsy and shaking. He carefully picked up the main body of the phone. Then he picked up the detached screen.
He held them in his open palms as if they were a wounded bird. His fingers traced the new spiderweb cracks that now covered the glass.
He pressed the power button on the side of the phone. He held it for a second. Nothing happened. The screen remained black and lifeless. He pressed it again.
This time he held it down for several seconds. His thumb pushed hard against the button. Still nothing. It was completely dead.
Anger flared inside him. It was hot and sharp. It burned away the cold dread for a moment.
Is everything going to be bad for me today? The thought was a silent scream in his mind. First he lost his best job. Now his only phone was destroyed. Does the world hate me that so many bad things are happening one after another? He said nothing aloud. But his jaw tightened. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the useless device in his hand.
He felt a burning sensation behind his eyes. He swallowed hard. He fought to keep tears from forming. He would not cry here on the street.
He was looking at the broken phone but he was seeing something else.
He was seeing the loss of his two remaining jobs. He needed that phone. The grocery store manager sent schedule changes by text message.
The supervisor for the office cleaning job called him when there were extra shifts available. He had to be reachable. He needed to receive instructions and coordinate deliveries for the small freelance courier work he sometimes picked up.
Without a phone he was cut off from everything. He could not work. He could not earn the $900 that barely kept him from being homeless.
The man whose collision had caused this stood perfectly still. He watched Adam on the ground. His tall broad frame was a dark silhouette against the morning light. The black sunglasses he wore reflected the city street.
They reflected the passing cars and the people on the sidewalk.
They completely hid his eyes. They hid whatever emotion might be in them. He just stood there. He observed Adam on his knees with the shattered phone. He was a statue of calm indifference.
Then the man spoke. His voice was calm and even. It was not loud but it cut through the noise of the city. "I'm sorry, kid. I was in a bit of a hurry, so I didn't see you."
Adam heard the voice. It belonged to the person who had just destroyed his last lifeline. He slowly lifted his head. He looked up at the man. His eyes traveled from the polished leather shoes up the perfectly tailored black suit.
He saw the expensive watch on the man's wrist. He saw the confident posture. Adam had worked at a five-star hotel for months. He had carried luggage for men like this. He had served food to them.
He knew this look. He knew the quiet confidence of wealth and the power that came with it. The man standing before him radiated that same unmistakable aura.
The anger that had been boiling inside Adam suddenly cooled. It was replaced by a cold practical caution. It was a feeling he knew well. He had seen what happened to people who challenged the rich.
He had seen a fellow porter argue with a guest over a small mistake. The porter was fired the next day. He knew that if he yelled at this man on the street, if he demanded compensation for his broken phone, it would only result in more trouble for him. An argument here was a fight he could not win.
The man had power and money. Adam had nothing. The loss would be his and his alone.
The man would walk away and forget about him in five minutes. Adam would be left with a broken phone and maybe a new problem with the police.
He made a decision. It was a quick and bitter choice. He pushed himself up from the ground. He still held the two pieces of the broken phone in one hand.
He forced a smile onto his face. It was a tight unnatural expression. It was a mask that did not reach his tired eyes. He lowered his gaze.
He bowed his head slightly. It was the same gesture of deference he had used a hundred times at the hotel.
"No, sir," Adam said. His voice was quiet and steady. He made sure it sounded respectful.
"It was my fault."
The man in the suit did not move. His head tilted almost imperceptibly. It was a minute gesture of surprise. His posture did not change but something in his stillness did. He had been expecting a different reaction.
The thought ran through his mind.
The kid should have yelled at him. A normal person would have been angry.
They would have shouted and pointed at the broken phone. He should have been made to apologize properly. He should have been forced to bow his own head in front of everyone on the street.
Adam's immediate submission was not what he had anticipated. It was unusual. It was wrong.