No One Misses the Homeless
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“Excuse me miss, may I have a moment of your time?” A greasy hair man with a crooked nose reaches out an unsteady hand to a young woman passing by him. She shakes her head apologetically and keeps walking.

“Sir, a moment?” He asks another man who passes after the young woman.

The man ignores him and passes by without a backwards glance.

The greasy man sighs and walks to the nearest building and leans up against it. He spends twenty minutes watching people passing by, never stopping to talk to him or offer their help, or even their sympathies.

It was near to sunset and he was ready to pack up and head home, to as much of a home as a crawl space under a stranger’s porch could be. From across the street a businessman approaches him with a smile.


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