Homeless

Hello sir,
How do you do?
What is it you’re wearing?
An old hat?
Some ragged shoes?
Is it true that you live here?
Really?
Here?
Right here on these streets?
Well sir, why ever would you do that?
Because of a choice?
And what choice was that kind sir?
Between your wife, your life, or your liquor?
Oh my sir, oh why?!
What is it you want?
Some change for more booze?
Why of course kind sir, how could I refuse?

The dark street is full of people, and they all look the same. They look beaten and secluded.
I walk past, escorted by a police officer; cautiously looking into the faces of those huddled around bins of fire, the flickering glow revealing their hawk-like eyes glaring at me out of blood-stained dirty faces, some grasping an L-shaped bundle of rags. Those glares all say one thing: fresh meat.

Stale. The coffee was stale. I spit it back into the stained mug with a grimace, receiving a dirty look from the blond waitress. The brunette just ignored me. The empty taste lingered in my mouth, clung to my filthy teeth. Desperate to remove it, I stuck in a finger, using it as a swab. Upon removing it all I could taste was dirt and tangy salt that stung my tongue.