By Ed N. White
The rain didn’t help. Five hours trudging the highway. A million mosquito bites. Two hornet stings. Fifty-two cans. Two dollars, sixty cents. Some days aren’t worth it. I shouldered the black plastic bag and squished into town on sodden sneakers.
The machines were available. The crushing stops. Push here for receipt. A one-dollar burger today. McCafe in the morning. I won’t starve.
“Hey, Eddie.” Old Jake, lopsided on the broken crutch. Too-large hoodie dripping puddles. Small bag. Twenty-one cans—dollar-five.
“Let me help you, Jake.”
Crush cans. Slip him my receipt. Head out for burger with nickel tip. No coffee tomorrow.
Great opening – Squishy sneakers, I can hear ’em, feel ’em, and the ‘skeeters! Yikes! And nice image of compassion, how the poor are more kind and generous than the avarice rich. hb
Wonderful story. A powerhouse of words for this season of giving.
Great word choices: squished into town; dripping puddles.
Nicely done! The soaking-wet atmosphere adds to the need for the warmth that Eddie shows to Jake.
I felt Eddie’s pain and discomfort through your words as well as his kindness and generosity from his heart. There should be more Eddies in this world! As always, Ed, I thank you for your stories…