The traffic light turned red. Holding hands, He was standing next to Her, staring at the light waiting for it to turn green. Along came a silver-haired, not very old but worn-down guy, probably homeless, asking them for a dollar. They looked at him for a moment before they went back to staring at the traffic light, trying to avoid him. “What about fifty cents?” the homeless guy asked now firmer. He started repeating it like a robot “Com‘on its only fifty cents.” After a while his repetitions became desperate, pleading. They went on ignoring. Until, suddenly, almost as if someone had turned a switch, the beggar’s pleas mutated into anger. Jaw-biting, the beggar exploded “You don’t give me a dollar, only one fucking dollar? Fuck you!”
An anger-driven man punched Him in the chest. Once. It was like a crocodile snap over the moment it began.
They walked away as quickly as they could.
Safe, at home, she asked “Why didn’t you react?”
He responded calmly but sincere
“Did you see the guy? He didn’t have a nose. You can’t win against someone who has nothing to lose!”
It was true, she recollected, the angry man’s nose was not only broken but literally sunken into his face, only as much as necessary to recognize the features of his skull underneath.