"Can I help you?"
I knew it was really stupid to open my door and talk to the strange man who was sitting on my front porch, a sane person would pick up a phone and call the police, but I just couldn't help myself. He looked so sad and broken somehow. When I first caught a glimpse of him, I had a mini-heart attack, but after several minutes of watching him through my living room window, I didn't feel threatened at all. He was just sitting there; his face (or what I could see of it at that angle) had that hollowed look of someone who hasn't been eating or sleeping well. I would not have said he was attractive, but perhaps he could of been back when life was a little easier for him. His black hair was shaggy and matted, he desperatly needed a good, long shower, but what kept me staring was the way he was sitting there so still. Whatever he was seeing--I would wager that it was not my badly in need of a mow front yard--had him frozen. I didn't know why, but I was sure that he wasn't there to hurt me.
"Can I help you?" I asked; the sound of my voice made him jump to his feet, and I thought he was going to bolt towards the woods.
When he turned to reply, he already had one foot off the porch, " I apologize." His voice was gravely and sounded unused, but his eyes, my god those eyes, were navy blue like the sapphire in my grandmothers engagement ring. The color was striking, deep set in his pale face and surronded by lashes as black as his hair, but it wasn't just the color that held me-they were fathomless in his grief, I felt myself being pulled into their depths.
" I didn't know that anyone lived here. I just stopped to rest, I didn't....I mean I wasn't...." he stammered and began hurriedly walking towards the woods.
"Wait!", I called after him. "Where did you come from? Are you lost? Do you need help?"
I thought he was just going to keep walking, but at my last question he hesitated so I added, "I could give you something to eat."