DAY TWENTY

A man tried to hit me up for a cigarette on my way to the SA this afternoon. I told him, sorry, I only brought the one (which was true). Then he tells me that he ran out of gas and could I help him out with a couple bucks. I’m thinking, man, if you're serious about this shtick, you had better commit yourself to the role a little more. I mean, it’s all in the delivery, you know? Go home, practice it in front of the mirror a couple times, and then come see me. I said, no, sorry, and started walking. Finally, he asks me if he could have a drag of my cigarette. Kier-ist. I rolled my eyes, pushed the smoke into his hand and walked away.