But this is not the case for most. So many concentrate on the next square at a time, like a lioness who eats and then sleeps with no worries, only to wake and begin the ritual again. This simple alignment of need and get goes on and on, yielding only to the arrested beat.
He had encountered this person of the street before. The coins he would share to slow the downward progression were always spent on gin. He didn’t really care, because his giving was really a taking. He needed to give it up to avoid that growling guilt from his comfortable suburban youth, all the time wearing it on his forehead like a beacon.
On this afternoon his charity had a requirement attached. This was no pay it forward gig, as he was out to make it all better. The old chum purchased his tomatoes from the city grocery as instructed and carried them close to his chest as he attempted to cross Wells St. in the steady rain. He observed the old man from the protected overhang outside the store. As the bag grew wet and the paper fiber gave way, he watched the red fruit tumble from the man’s grasp and split open upon the concrete gutter at his feet.
Later, as he sat with the old man, he was surprised to learn about his family near forgotten. He spoke of the days when he lived off pride and respect. He could and would work on the railroad for double shifts if it meant he could provide his children with a decent Christmas. They talked a long while and the old man cried a bit. And they sipped gin together.
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