She crosses the street, takes the underpass to the main road. This is a route she’s walked every day, she could do it blindfolded.
On her right, there’s a pile of blankets against a brick wall.
“Hey,” She says to the blankets. They move. A dirty face smiles at her, “Well, hello there.”
She passes him a package, “Your lunch.”
“Thanks, Curly.”
Four men in business suits are walking towards them. Laughing, engaging in douchebaggery.
“Get a job!” One of them shouts towards the man in the blankets.
“I’d love a job,” he shouts back. “Can I borrow a suit?”
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