Cold hard truth

No one saw the dark figure slipping past the crowds. No one saw a hand slip out from under a black cloak to take a long, frayed length of rope. No one saw him, an old grey man in his sixties, hunch backed and sad looking, with that look in his eyes that could be happiness, almost was happiness, but had vanished long ago. No one would miss a crippled old man with no job, no family and no home. No one would hear his cry when he fell. Because the cold, hard truth of it was; no one cared.