Yeah, I got time for a Fiction in 58.
He begs for your change, stooped over, hand out. Says “bless you, sir, bless you ma’am,” even when there’s no money exchanged. He dares to look you in the eye. He smiles, nearly toothless. At the end of the night, pockets bulging, he walks to a parked Mercedes the color of night, toggles the alarm. And smiles again.