Picking up the last fallen apple, Morpheous walked towards that old man.
"Here!"
"Thank you so much, young man! God knows what would have happened if you hadn't helped me."
"It was nothing!" Morpheous said and put the apples in a polythene bag a samaritan had offered.
"Should I call you a cab?" he asked.
"No… No… I feel perfectly fine. My house is just four blocks away," the old man replied, pointing his fingers towards the second cross.
"Then I will walk you home. This bag is heavy!" he said with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
"Won't that be a hassle for you, young man?"
"It's Morpheous, and no, I insist," he said. His voice shivered a bit due to the cold and piercing breeze that swept through the street.
"Morpheous! As in God's favorite son?"
"I doubt that!"