Obviously this is tattooed on my forehead, in ink that only complete strangers can read.
The diabetic single father of nine behind me in line at the grocery. He occassionally sneaks chocolate, he knows it is wrong but he does it anyway.
The barista at my local coffee house - she'd had a fight with her boyfriend, he pushes her, controls her, she doesn't know why she is telling me this, but she is.
The elder at the church speaking about plans for the community center, the help for the downtrodden and addicted, for those who've made poor choices in life or for whom poor choices were made for them and they were left abandoned with what life had dealt them.
The single mother at the football game, she's lonely, and so very tired. I should take my kids over, we could sit on the patio and talk.
It's Wednesday. I already know more about those around me than really I care to. That's ugly and terrible. I actually do not mind listening. I just would like a paycheck so that while I'm listening the sounds of the last of my coins dropping would stop intruding.
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