I was angry at Cheryl. She took the $30 I’d given her for a cab, which would pick her up on the street corner just outside my house. There was bus stop on that corner, and she’d been waiting for a vessel, she said for “hours.” I’m cynical about that estimation because Cheryl was clearly unstable.

When I spotted her, she wore a white sundress with embroidered flowering under a fur coat whose authenticity I couldn’t tell. This clothing was dirty and Cheryl was addled by something. Her hair was in a loose bun, and her eyes drooped. She talked as if she was loosing her mind. I talked on the phone with a friend on my…