WOMAN:
(Stops, scoffing)
You know, if you put half the energy into getting a job as you do sitting here all day, maybe you wouldn’t be in this position.
HOMELESS MAN:
(Looks up, calm)
Ma’am, I had a job. I had a family. Life doesn’t always ask for permission to fall apart.
WOMAN:
(Arms crossed)
There are shelters. Programs. You people just don’t want help.
HOMELESS MAN:
I wanted help. Until my veteran’s benefits got cut. Until the shelter was full. Until people looked at me like I was garbage.
WOMAN:
(Coldly)
I work hard for what I have.
HOMELESS MAN:
And I’m sure you do. So did I—until cancer took my wife, and medical bills took our home.
(A beat. She falters, but hides it.)
WOMAN:
Still doesn’t mean you belong on the street, bothering people.
HOMELESS MAN:
I haven’t asked you for a thing, have I?
(She doesn’t answer. A passing TEENAGER walks by, places a sandwich and a water bottle at his feet.)
TEENAGER:
Hope things get better, man.
HOMELESS MAN:
(Smiles)
They already are.
(The woman watches, suddenly unsure. The man nods politely and goes back to sitting quietly.)
