This short-short is based on a true experience. -TimK
Down the sidewalk he darted around the dozens on their way to wherever they were going. He wore dress slacks and a beige, woolen jacket, and his black shoes clapped against the concrete. He stopped at a street corner just long enough to see his breath rise through the air and to hear a verse or two of a crusty-voiced, slurred beggar’s chant: “Disabled veteran. Spare a little change. Spare a little change…” There was more, two syllables, but though he tried to comprehend it, it remained unintelligible.
He crossed the street and continued running, the chant echoing in his mind. “Disabled veteran. Spare a little change. Spare a little change…” What was that last word? It sounded like “get out,” but that couldn’t be right. He tried to breath through his nose.
It was getting dark. He had to use the lighted dial on his watch. Four-fifty. In ten minutes, the streets would be filled with people and cars, a sorry situation for him to be in. He was late as it was. He quickened his pace to the beat. “Disabled veteran. Spare a little change. Spare a little change get out!” Or maybe “about”? Or “amount”?
The interview had been scheduled for 3:30. MapQuest said it would take a half-hour to get there. But this was in the city. He left at 1 o’clock. He was twenty minutes late for the appointment.
Then he needed money to pay the parking garage. He needed to find an automated teller and get out of the city before rush hour, or else what chance did he have of getting home in time to pick up the kids?
Finally, cash in his pocket, he ran down the sidewalk and across the street, just making the light, and into the city commons. He slowed his gait if not his breathing as he passed a businessman walking in the opposite direction wearing a long, cashmere winter coat. He looked up, prepared to say hello, but the man just looked straight ahead. Another beggar, who had earlier been sitting on the grass, was now placed strategically in the sidewalk.
Running once again, he climbed the gentle slope approaching the entrance to the parking garage. His back began to ache, and he also noticed a pain in his right leg. Having labored through the doorway, he floated down two flights of stairs. Then he slowed. The clap of his shoes echoed in the labyrinthine caves of the automobile. A flickering fluorescent light overhead dimly illuminated the way down aisle B.
He fumbled with the keys, his face now dripping sweat, his mouth dry. The door opened. He collapsed in the seat, almost passing out.
“Disabled veteran. Spare a little change. Spare a little change, come on! Disabled veteran. Spare a little change. Spare a little change, come on! Disabled veteran…”
He unbuttoned his jacket and started the car. It came to life, backed slowly out of its space. Then down the aisle toward the exit, and out onto the dark, crowding city streets.
But for once today, he would make it after all.