Notes: A 3:00 AM attempt. This is for you, Meri, who told me that I should write something...here ya go.
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It's not exactly safe to be staring at homeless people when you're driving. But then again, it's not safe to drive when you've gotten no sleep for the past week either.
My eyes scanned the sidewalks for possible contestants. I drove around a few blocks once or twice, before finally making my choice. I pulled over to the side of the road on a particularly crowded sidewalk, placed my car in park, unbuckled my seatbelt, and stepped out.
I tried not to look suspicious, leaning against my car and fumbling with my purse, all the meanwhile glancing up through my wavy blond hair, examining one or two people sitting on the sidewalk.
There was one man who I considered for a moment. He leaned against the wall with a thick, woolen blanket wrapped around him, a long whispy gray beard growing down past his chin and resting on his chest. I almost walked up to him, until someone else walked by, and he looked up at them and started babbling in some broken language. Damn.
I looked around some more, hands still moving around in my purse. There was a younger, African American woman leaning against the wall with a shopping cart full of tattered clothes next to her. In her hands, she held what looked like marijuana, I couldn't tell from that far away…I was just about to walk up to her when I was hit with a sudden realization. If I chose her, she'd just use the money to buy more drugs…I have nothing against her personally, but I'd rather not contribute to shortening her life.
There was one person left, and I decided that he was the one. The young man leaning against a street sign, dressed in tattered jeans and a baggy red sweatshirt. In his hands were two long drumsticks, banging against a small plastic bucket that he had positioned between his legs.
It had to be him. I closed my purse and placed the strap on my shoulder, before walking over to him. As I got closer, I realize he wasn't as poor as I thought he was from far away. His jeans were barely torn, his sweatshirt clean, he looked healthy and happy. Maybe he wasn't homeless after all…but, it didn't matter. I needed someone to do this. As I approached him, he looked up at me and smiled hopefully, most likely expecting a quarter or something to be dropped at his feet. I could tell I surprised him when, instead of walking past, I kneeled down next to him, and stared him right in the face.
"Hello?" he asked. His voice startled me, it was very feminine, extremely different from the slightly accented voice I had been expecting, based on his somewhat Mexican looks. As I looked closer, I could see the remnants of mascara on his eyelashes, even his lips were colored something different than what his normal shade might have been.
"Hello." I replied, trying to sound friendly as I stuck out my hand. "I'm Sarah."
He set down his drum sticks and cautiously reached out and took my hand, shaking it gently.
"I'm Angel."
"Hello Angel." I greeted him kindly, a warm but devious smile creeping its way on to my lips. "Listen, do you think you could do me a favor?" I reached into my purse and dug around for a minute, finally grasping a $100 bill and showing him the corner. "I could make it worth your while."
His eyes widened, and only then did I realize how much like a prostitute I sounded.
"Not that." I added quickly. "No, you see…my neighbor has this dog..."
