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I passed by that homeless man every day after my coffee in the café.
I would watch him pick up the litter, but he never rummaged through it.
I would also watch him reading abandoned books, sitting on the pavement. He looked homeless, sad and strangely familiar.
One day, as I was about to leave, a pregnant woman began to suffocate. Her husband cried out in despair:
-Somebody help me!!! My wife can't breathe!’.
Suddenly, the homeless man pushed me and ran in. He approached the woman, examined her and whispered, -There is no time:
-There is no time. -He asked for alcohol, a pen and a knife. The husband, horrified, tried to push him away:
-Take your hands off my wife, you filthy bum!’.
But the homeless man insisted:
-You have no choice. Either I do this, or she dies. The paramedics won't get there in time.
The husband, helpless, nodded.
As the homeless man worked frantically to save her, I finally recognised him. I whispered to him in terror:
-My God, I've been looking for you for years! Dr. Schneider.
The man I thought was a vagrant was actually a brilliant surgeon, who had disappeared after being accused of illegal experiments. Now I understood his ragged appearance and his medical knowledge.
I watched in shock as he performed an emergency tracheotomy with those rudimentary instruments, saving mother and baby.
By the time the paramedics arrived, Dr. Schneider had disappeared back into the shadows, leaving a trail of terrifying questions about his true identity and the secrets he was hiding.
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