The Man Across the Street

"I was headed along the sidewalk, almost home, when I saw an old man reaching into a trashcan. He would pull out a bottle, bring it close to his white whiskered face, and either place it into his cart or back into the can. This was nothing unusual. I'd seen plenty homeless people search through the trash. He was just like all the rest. His hair was matted here and there like he'd been dunked in oil. I could even imagine the exact smell he was giving off, even from across the street: a mixture of beer, sweat, and trash. This was all so typical. I had probably only given him a few seconds of my attention before I looked back towards my own path. And that's when I heard it, "Josh". Did I know him from somewhere? Maybe he wasn't homeless. Maybe I was just wrong. I kept walking in case I was mistaken, "Josh!". I whipped around and there he was, ambling across the street after me. He had an empty glass coke bottle in his hand and was waving it irrationally so I kept moving. "Now wait, hold on, now wait there just a second" he threw out desperately. "Sorry, do I know you?". He cocked his head a little to the right, "no, no I suppose you don't but you'll be getting to know me real well here presently". "What's that supposed to mean?" I put back at him. "Oh, I just, well listen, its not quite that easy. Mind if we sit for a second? I don't have as much breath as you do" he said as he delicately sat upon a low concrete wall. "There we are. That's good. That's good".

"I don't mean to be rude-"

"Then don't be."

"-but...what?"

"Don't be rude if you don't mean to be."

a few cars pass by

"You're probably wondering my name. I'll tell you that one in a minute, once you believe I'm not crazy."

"That might take a while."

"(laughing until he begins to cough) Yes, yes!"

"So I take it you're not homeless?"

"Well, that wouldn't be entirely correct..."

"Whattya mean?"

"I don't have a home. I mean I do but I imagine its not mine anymore."

"Why? Did you go bankrupt or somethin'?"

"In a matter of speaking."

"Okay what does that mean?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Uh, sure."

"I'm not from here."

"You're not from here."

"No sir."

"Then where are you from?"

"Apparently that's still being decided."

"Like by who?"

"God."

"God?"

"That's right."

"Okay" and with that I get up to leave, but the old man grabs my hand.

"Wait! You can't leave! I was sent to help you!"

"Just...let go of my hand first of all. Yeah, now see, I dunno what you're talkin' about but I have to go. Goodbye."

"You can see her again you know!"

"What?"

"She's still alive. Kind of. Something like that."

"Who?"

"Oh I think you know who."