Doors of Bronze

I had a rather unusual encounter the other day. I was blatantly happy, walking back from the bus stop with a bag full of delicious groceries. It was warm outside, and I squinted into the drooping sun at the top of the hill. It was a steep climb so I walked very casually, focusing on the neighboring gardens, thoughtless, and content. I remember I was still wearing my USF ID card around my neck, and it clicked lightly against one of my sweater buttons. It was a soothing noise actually. Every time I took a step, the little card would swish back and forth in front of me. I looked up once, to check on my progress back home, and there in front of me was a man. I could see him stand clearly about 10 feet away, but he did not notice me. He had meticulously trimmed black hair, and at the same time wore a rumpled suit. He stood in front of a house, facing the gaping metal security door. But he did not move an inch. His feet remained planted on the sidewalk, almost touching the first of the front steps, but never attempting them. I suppose he must have been waiting for someone. I watched his face curiously as I passed by, though he wasn’t looking through the glass panels of the door, as I might expect a visitor to do, waiting for any movement inside the house to signal the appearance of the intended person. No. Instead he stared unblinkingly at the bottom of the door, which was coated in a foggy bronze -colored metal. If it had been more reflective, or if he had appeared to show some self-awareness, I would have assumed that he was looking at himself. But the metal was neither very reflective, nor was the man touching his hair or adjusting the angle of his face to suggest that he was using the metal as a mirror. The moment my body crossed from one side of his to the other, leaving him there, and walking on towards home, I felt this uncanny connection. It was if my mind was actually trying very hard to read his, without me asking it to. My mind was disappointed of course, but I did have this flash of empathy. I knew it must have been something very jarring, or very confusing that had made him oblivious to the world in this moment. I wondered what it was that kept him staring. What was is that he saw in the reflection of the door?