The little man looked upon me through the glass. I stood for a long while and looked into his eyes. He looked back into mine.  Not a small creature looking at me but a man. His face was wrinkled in sorrow.  He wondered about me, I wondered about him. I knew he was curious because I was curious. His sorrow tore at me, for he did not move like a monkey, just sat and stared at me. I could not help myself but stand there and stare at him.

I thought to myself, how does he feel about me? Sensory cues were limited to sight.  If we could only touch each other.  Hear each other’s life sounds, breathing, and vocalizations. Use of the other senses could give us cues to our feelings about each other.

I felt like maybe I knew him from somewhere. Perhaps we have met before?  Not possible, if you think about mankind’s definition of human. He for instance might be kin in a before life. I jest in that thought that this human-looking monkey might just be like me. How close are our genes anyway?  I laugh at the thought.

A mirror?  I wonder, do I have a sorrowful face that draws his stare.  I am looking into his eyes at least.  The eyes are what draws us to each other.  Not movement of the body, for neither I nor the monkey, moved, just staring, seeming to look for each other’s soul.

I remember as a child when a pet died, a minister told me an animal had no soul.  I think as I thought then, all life, in general, must have a soul. All life returns to the earth and the energy never dies.

I stared a few more minutes, his face did not change. When I walked away surprisingly he followed and watched me.  I thought to myself, maybe we helped each other’s sorrow, in this life, for a while, to go away.