A NYC Fiction in 58

Yeah, I got time for a Fiction in 58.

Spare Change

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.

2 comments:

Dee Martin said...

awesome :)

Crystal Phares said...

I've always wondered if that was really true.