by jexmas on July 2, 2014

“Will you give me some money so I can have something to eat?” She is in one of those chairs on wheels, not a wheelchair exactly, but an assisted perambulatory seat.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“Yes, can you give me something for something to eat?”

There is a cafe on the corner.

“I’ll go and buy something for you. What would you like?”

She looks confused.

“Um…well, what do they have?”

“How about a muffin or a pastry?” I ask since it is still breakfast time.

“I don’t like all those sugary muffins.”

“What would you like?” I ask again.

“I want some fruit.”

“Oh, I bet they have fruit in there. I could get you an apple or an orange or something.”

“I want watermelon,” she says. 

“They don’t have watermelon,” I reply, trying to think of the nearest place I can buy watermelon in the produce wasteland of Kearny and Bush.

“Well, I want watermelon,” she says again.

“You don’t want anything but watermelon?”

She nods. “Nothing but watermelon,” she says.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m sorry, I can’t get it for you here.”

She looks at me with reproach. So I walk away from this tiny, frail little thing in her chair with wheels knowing she is addicted to something and, whatever it is, it is not watermelon.

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