By Parker
At 2 AM, the bus station is a cold, lonely place. A homeless man sleeps on the bench and a woman with no teeth knits a lavender scarf that will be stained before she’s finished. I try not to notice.
The homeless man sits up and I jump when he tugs at my jacket sleeve. His beard is knotted and caked with bits of food and dry leaves.
“Got change for a cuppa coffee?” he asks.
I hand him a couple dollars. He moves past the coffee machine and on down the street. I am not surprised. The toothless woman smiles.
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