He was sitting on the ledge of a stone wall near the entrance to BART.
“How are you doin’ today?”
“I’m well, how are you?” I said as I passed by.
“Good, a little cold over here.” He was sitting in the shade, away from the hot rays of the sun. “Any change?”
I shook my head.”Sorry, I don’t have anything.”
“Have a good day,” he called as I walked away.
When I reached the corner and stopped to wait for the crosswalk signal, I realized I had coins in my change purse. I pulled out some quarters and walked back, sitting beside him and dropping the coins in his cup.
He gave me the two most recent issues of Street Sheet, a newspaper printed by the Coalition on Homelessness and given to homeless people, who then sell it on the street and keep 100% of what they receive.
It was his sixtieth birthday, and he said he was trying to earn enough to buy himself a burrito. I wish I had offered to take him out to dinner, but my mind was focused on getting to the hostel and setting my bags down.
Before I left, he gave me directions to the nearby farmer’s market, where he works two days a week. I hope I run into him again.