A man lives outside our 7-Eleven. Best I can tell, he speaks to no one, has no cup to hold out for money, demonstrates no evidence of possessions at all, has no other location, and makes no effort to connect or survive in any way. He is unkempt, his white hair standing straight from his scalp, his dark clothes stained from the city.
Friday night, Heidi and I were walking home just after 10pm. The man was sleeping on the sidewalk tiles outside the 7-Eleven, laying on his side, back against wall, knees bent out. A couple emerged from the store with two bags; one they quietly tucked behind the man’s legs, leaving him food for the next day. He didn’t stir, and the couple continued along their way, their quiet kindness completed.