101: minister moody

the older black man called me when our eyes met. “God said he’d help me. i think you’re it.” he introduced himself as minister moody, like the Bible college. his teeth were worse than his wandering eye, and he smelled faintly of time. he needed sixty dollars for medication--he had a family. i hesitated, strangely sympathetic. i had one bill: not enough. i bought him orange juice and a sandwich at a convenience store instead. i walked home wondering if i’d done the right thing.
i passed him again a few weeks later, he needed a ticket for the el.