He sat on the corner bus bench every afternoon, waving the busses on by for hours on end. His clothes were crumpled, frumpy even. He looked like he should be holding a tin cup and a sign that said, "Will Work For Food."
One afternoon I decided to bring him food. I handed him the paper wrapped sandwich and he looked at me with confused eyes. “What is this for?”
I shrugged, “Lunch.”
“This really isn’t necessary,” he pulled a leather wallet from his pocket, and handed me one of many hundred dollar bills, “For your time and effort, thanks.”
(I know the rules say that the stories will be judged based on the effort put into them. I would just like to point out I wrote this to be exactly 100 words long and fitting the story to that parameter is extremely difficult to do, I know I do it once a week for the Micro Fiction Challenge.)
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