Till Jesus Comes

A break came. “Boss, a coin for a cup of coffee,” said the vagrant with an outreach palm. He cut in my path after I left a diner. His craving eyes followed my hands as I pulled out a coin from my pocket and dangled above his palm not releasing it.

“Do you want lots and lots of these?” I said, and then enclosed the coin with my hand attempting to make him salivate further.

“You’re so dumb asking me that question. Of course I want lots of money, who isn’t.” He snickered while saying it.

“Good, then look for me at my usual place at the Avenida tomorrow and we’ll talk about your money.”

“Then give me the coin, now,” he said, with his face showing an eagerness for the coin to drop on his palm. “Better still give me a bill. A ten-peso bill will do.” I donned a smirk and tried to suppress a scornful laughter for his impertinent. My hand went inside my pocket again and another coin was produced. I wanted to be generous today if only to ensnare him.