Jealous of Nothing

I don’t know if I should wake him up or not. The bum just looks so peaceful and still in his most inconvenient home. Well, inconvenient for me at least. I stare at the bum’s make-shift home; a ratty, piss-stained mattress, a new-looking dark green Rubbermade utility bin spilling with god knows what, and a cheap metal picture frame with clouded glass. I teeter on the metal staircase leading up to the train platform, the heels of my work boots dipping slowly as I take more of the homeless man’s homeless mans haven in. The more I think about it, the less temporary it all seems. The way the shitty mattress fits perfectly into the corner of the landing, how the busting container serves as a nightstand for the lone mystery photograph, it all just seems to fit.
I look at the man, then look at my watch. It’s four am. I hear the first train of the day approaching in the distant ambience of the sleeping city. I have to work at a new site today and I should probably be at the equipment warehouse already, but having no car means using clockwork transportation that just so happens to start when my shift does. I look down at the man, still as silence, on the corner of the mattress closest to me. He’s bundled in winter clothes, or probably all the clothes he owns, even though it’s barely September. There is no expression on his face which makes me think he’s nowhere near uncomfortable or stuffy with heat. He’s so unmoving and content, experiencing the kind of stillness I haven’t experienced in years, if ever. I’m jealous of this bum.
The headlights of the train catch my sleepy focus. Oh shit, my train. I take a step up and extend my leg, holding onto the steel handrail for support, and bounce the edge of the mattress closest to the bum.
“Hey. Man wake up.” I say in a way that I knew wouldn’t wake him. It’s like pinching a baby after it had finally fallen asleep; I feel guilty. Hoping the rumble of the coming train would wake him, I waited on the step I’d been perched on for the past ten minutes until I felt something stir behind me. It was the working men and women starting their day as I was starting mine. I usually don’t see them considering I take the earliest possible train. They begin to head up the stairs, tired eyes blank and ears occupied by the music coming from expensive looking players and phones. As I’m unnoticeably pushed to the side of the staircase I watch these mindless robots of people crush and dirty the bum’s home. His home.
I sigh, turn around and very slowly begin my walk home. I can’t deal with this shit today.