Bread and Roses
I work downtown, and within a few hundred yards from my office door, there is a homeless shelter. Thus, there are a multitude of panhandlers in my life.
I work downtown, and within a few hundred yards from my office door, there is a homeless shelter. Thus, there are a multitude of panhandlers in my life.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?