Shelter

I found out today someone I’m used to seeing won’t be around anymore. It’s bound to happen. Working at a cafe, there are many familiar faces. Some I remember and most I don’t. It takes prolonged repetition for me to notice anything. Short, genuine interactions one after the other. It can be exhausting. From this I’m rewarded with a handful of people I look forward to seeing. I’m going to miss this particular face.

I strange person walked into the cafe before closing tonight. Well, not strange. Needy. A very needy person came in. Trying to mask his need behind casual conversation I listened to stories about living on the street and coughing up blood. Fear of walking and fear of other people. Clearly I’m not one of the ones he fears. Instead he seemed to think I would be moved by his fear. I have pity. I wish him well. I don’t hand over money. It’s a choice I had to make a long long time ago. The problem isn’t the money. It’s the precedent. If you give money to one person, others want it too. I have to give nothing or I’d be pressed to give everything. I’m that way with my friends too. My good friends never press for much.

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