On Friday it was a skinny young man dressed in black. He was crouched down holding a different sign, with a similar message. As traffic began to move through the stoplight he stood, exhaling a plume of tobacco smoke. He looked pretty strung out to her, and she snorted thinking: “Can’t afford food, but cigarettes? Oh yeah!” She remembered when a pack cost 35 cents, then went up to 40 cents. That’s when she quit. Now 35 cents might buy one cigarette.
“Hell, we all have priorities,” she chided. Today hers was to be heading back home for the weekend.