by Schneider

Created on: November 19, 2008

I forgot to tell you about someone I met when I was exercising yesterday. We have a homeless shelter in our town, which I pass when I take my daily walk. Some of the "regulars" are easy to spot and one of them decided to talk to me while I was walking. It was very humid and I was already sweating, and I noticed that he was wearing a long flannel shirt with a sweat stain in the middle of his back, jeans, and heavy work boots. He had very long unkempt hair that flowed past his shoulders, and perched on the end of his nose sat a pair of huge eyeglasses that were probably purchased sometime in the mid-eighties and made him look a bit owl eyed. He was puffing away on a cigarette when he struck up a conversation.

"I see you walking every day."

"Oh, I don't walk every day," I replied, "but I do walk a lot."

The homeless guy slowed down as he spoke and I felt the urge to match his stride.

"I walk every day. I walk four to five miles every single day. It doesn't matter what kind of weather we're having. I just do it. I'm telling ya, it just doesn't matter. Pouring cats and dogs like my mama used to say and that still doesn't stop me." He threw the stub of his cigarette to the pavement and mashed it with the toe of his boot.

"That's a lot." I caught a whiff of him and my nose twitched at the odd combination of stale cigarettes, body odor, and cheap cologne. I smiled, not knowing what else to say or do. I smiled and kept walking.

"See that garage sale up there?" he asked as he pointed to a beautiful house that sat a few blocks away.
"Is that where you're heading?"

"Nope. I'm just trying to get some exercise."

"I was thinking. I bet you don't know what I was thinking."

I shook my head.

"I was thinking that if you bought everything there it would only cost about three-hundred dollars and I'm figuring on the high side. That's what good business men do, you know. I always thought I would be a good business man.
I'm not sure what kind, but I know I would be a good one."

"What would I do with all of that stuff?" I asked with surprise. We were now walking at a snail's pace and it was starting to get on my nerves.

"Give it to me," he replied as he dug around in the ripped pocket of his shirt. He grunted a bit and finally pulled out a bent cigarette and placed it carefully between his chapped lips. "Do you have a light?"

"No, sorry. I'm exercising."
As I answered, I turned and looked at him and really studied his features. His lips were cracked, painfully so, and he had about a day's growth of stubble on his leathery cheeks. A large scar sat on his chin and as odd as it might sound, half of his left eyebrow was missing. I tried to imagine him in a business suit but my mind wouldn't allow me to hold onto the image. "You don't need everything at that garage sale." I replied with a smile. "What would you do with it?

"Sell it. And let me tell you, I would make a lot more than three-hundred bucks. A good business man always keeps his eye on the bottom line. You know, I have to think about what's in it for me.
Remember that. It's good advice."

"Uh, thanks."

"Well, you've taken up quite a bit of my time. Time is money. Let's talk business again sometime soon. Same time tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure," I agreed.
"Same time."

"See yaand bring a lighter. Would ya?"

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