Lost

They say he lost his mind on the corner of Spring Street and Seventh Avenue. Dressed for success he stood on the corner waiting for the light to change. In one hand he clutched a custom made leather briefcase in the other a cell phone. To the world he presented a picture of stability and sanity.

The light changed but he appeared not to notice and he never moved. The crowd parted around him an island of silence in a bustling sea of humanity. The five o'clock migration continued but he remained rooted to the sidewalk.

Thirty minutes passed before he began to move. Without much grace he set his briefcase on the sidewalk and sat on it. He carefully removed his loafers and his socks. He stuffed one sock into each shoe and without blinking threw his shoes out into the traffic where they were flattened by bus 994 on its way to the suburbs.

Next he placed his briefcase on his lap and sat cross-legged on the filthy sidewalk. He opened the case, removed a stack of forms and/or correspondence and began folding them into paper airplanes, which he tossed into the smog filled downtown air. He continued to remove documents, shredding them by hand and tossing the scraps into the air creating a blizzard of confetti.

He took the remaining items from his briefcase and began handing them to panhandlers gathered on the corner. Pens, pencils, wallet, credit cards, blank checks, his driver's license and even a picture of his four-year-old daughter all found their way into the hands of the homeless. Once it was empty he even handed over the briefcase.

While checking his pockets he came up with a handful of change, which he carelessly tossed onto the sidewalk creating a mini stampede. People knocked each other over while scrambling for the copper and silver glittering in the afternoon sun. His cell phone he gave to a veteran sitting in a wheelchair who was missing both of his legs.

While his personal drama had begun to unfold a crowd had gathered, whispering amongst themselves while they watched his nervous breakdown happen in real time.

With all of his possessions given away he proceeded to remove his clothing. Once he was naked he folded his suit and placed it on the top of a nearby post box. Oblivious to the catcalls and whistles he returned to the corner but rather than wait for the green light he stepped off the curb and wandered into the traffic. The squealing of brakes filled the air as the evening rush hour was brought to a grinding halt.

When he reached the center of the intersection he sat down and refused to move. Someone finally called the authorities. Communication was attempted but he would not speak. Finally an ambulance was requested and he was taken to the hospital.

With all of his identification gone identifying him became a daunting task. His fingerprints were not in the system and after seventy-two hours no one had filed a missing persons report. His picture was run in the local paper but to no avail. Various doctors spoke to him but he refused to even acknowledge them. He was given a full medical workup but the tests all came back negative giving him a clean bill of health. Several specialists examined him and to the best of their knowledge his brain appeared to be functioning normally.

After two months of attempting to identify him his trail had grown cold and he was declared a ward of the court. Since no family could be found he was institutionalized with the hope that someday he would awaken from whatever spell he was under.

On the one year anniversary of his breakdown a recap of his performance ran in the local paper. One local doctor was quoted as saying, "We know so little about the brain and how it functions that we are still baffled by cases such as this. The amazing thing though is not what happened to him but that it does not happen more often."