“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”
I met a guy at the petrol station this morning. Dark haired, Mediterranean heritage, wiry body. He jittered constantly, as those on large doses of speed do; his hands, eyes, legs and speech all falling over each other for attention.
He was standing in front of me in the queue to pay, quibbling over the cost of cigarettes and repeatedly asking about newspapers.
“How much are the cigarettes?… 25 dollars? But I’ve only got 23!… I’ll give you 23 for the cigarettes and the newspaper. Although I need two newspapers don’t I? What if I miss some news?… What?… No! I said I’d give you 23! I don’t have 29, I only have 23!… But I need them… Nonononononono, I need them.”
With four people behind me and the guy becoming increasingly agitated, I lean forwards and offer…
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