On the corner of High Street in York, there stood a mannequin in the window of a clothing shop. It was always dressed the same: a white shirt, grey trousers, and a crooked flat cap no one ever straightened. The mannequin had been forgotten, left there for over ten years—so still, so much a part of the scenery, most people barely noticed it anymore. But the shopkeepers nearby had grown fond of it. Every morning, as they opened their stores, they’d say, “Good morning, Mr. Albert”—the name they’d jokingly given it. It was just a bit of fun, a little ritual to start the day. The baker, the stationer, the florist… they all greeted the mannequin. And of course, it never replied.
Until one day, it did.
It was a Monday. The shop window was misty from the damp morning air. When the shopkeepers passed by and said, “Good morning, Mr. Albert,” the mannequin smiled. It moved. Then, softly, it answered, “Good morning, folks.”
Everyone froze.
It wasn’t a mannequin at all. It was a man—Albert, actually. Seventy-four years old, he’d been the shop’s night watchman for months. He’d lost his home, his family was far away, and he had nowhere else to go. So at night, he slept in the stockroom, and come morning, when the shop opened, he’d stand perfectly still behind the glass, pretending to be a mannequin.
It wasn’t a prank. He did it, he explained, because behind that glass, he felt less alone. “I like watching people, seeing how they start their days,” he said. “And here, at least… no one looks past me.”
The story spread when a young man filmed the moment and shared it online. It went viral. Thousands of people commented, “Sometimes we think no one sees us… but there’s always someone watching from the other side of the window.”
Now, Albert no longer pretends to be a mannequin. The shop gave him a job as a greeter. He sits in a chair by the window, smiling at passersby, and every morning when someone says, “Good morning, Mr. Albert,” he replies with words that have become a fixture of the neighbourhood:
“Good morning… and thank you for seeing me.”
A reminder that even in a crowd, loneliness can hide in plain sight—but kindness never goes unnoticed.
