It was late when I took my lunch at nearly two after noon. My unpleasant sleep last night created a lazy and a lack of interest to go out, but the urgency of what I would do must not wait. As I was leaving the diner, the vagrant appeared again blocking my path. He greeted me with his usual coarseness. “I need lots of money now, so . . .” he said, in a tone of a demand.
“Aren’t you waiting for Jesus to return?” I said, with full of sarcasm.
“Cut the crap, tell me . . .” he said. I pulled a small piece of paper from my bag and wrote on it, and afterwards jutted it out on of him. With annoyance showing on his slimy face, he snatched the paper from my hand. “Is this the amount I would be getting?” he asked.