Day 1- Papa L et Moi

Papa L is there, like last time. Splotches of grey in his beard, a pretty clean-looking sweatshirt. He puts down his Big Gulp full of change. “Don’t fuck with me this time.” I hand him the bottle of rum. “Jvousenprie” Why the v-word with me? I’m younger. It doesn’t matter. I can tell he’s grateful, and I can tell that it’s been a while. I want to ask him how he usually does in one day but the idea of doing so worries me for some reason. An old white man walks by. He is engrossed in his trip. Earlier I saw a bum wearing a witches’ hat. It’s just that kind of party today. The white bums are meaner, their checks come in faster, and usually nobody brings them an offering like this. I can tell that he will keep this addict’s secret well. One time I saw a man actually use the money for the bus. It’s their ticket to Shangri-La (or is it sangria?). If they’re lucky, they get to sleep all night. “I’m gonna get a donut from the donut shop. And I’m gonna get a lottery ticket.” I thought of how much rum that could buy him.

“Look, over on your left. There’s a winning lottery ticket.”

“I need to leave. Um, enjoy that,” I said, nodding at the paper bag. I turn and walk two blocks. About 10 minutes later, I hear sirens.


I never bought the lottery ticket. He’d been gesturing towards a Chinese restaurant.

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