The not knowing part

Driving down 35th Saturday night, we saw the kid I gave money to outside the bank, earlier the same day. He was sitting on the pavement when we got out of the car. He wanted a dollar and when I went for my wallet, he upped it to two. I go in and out of giving away my money and often don’t, but had just come off spending hundreds and thought I should, for some reason.

He had something wrong with him, I could tell by his speech, and he seemed scornful about taking my money, which caused me to freeze before I gave it to him and look at him hard, the way I do with my kids sometimes. He softened, and I realized I was treating him like a dog.

We cashed out our savings account and when we came out, he was gone.

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Please share your thoughts!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.