Billy Joel isn't as bad as I thought.

Her crying wouldn't let up so we slowed down somewhere along 6th street and sat against an old brick wall.  Two minutes hadn't passed before we were joined by a bald vagrant.  I tried my best to explain to her that everything would be okay...Eventually.  Relating my situation from previous years, starting over...Moving on.  But before I could finish the statement the bald man interrupted us.  "You uhh...Got fifty cents?"  "No" I responded as sternly as possible.

"How about..A light?"

"You got a bit of weed?"

"No."

"Cigarette?"

"No."

"What about a phone charger, got one of those?"

"FUCK NO."

Who is this guy and why does he think I'm a convenience store?

At this point her tears had been replaced by the fear of this creeper rampaging.  It was a little easier coercing her into a vehicle, ensuring she would get home safe.

She eventually went home, and I was alone.  Left to my own devices, I couldn't sleep.  All I could keep thinking about, amidst the post-break-up-blues was the conversation with the homeless man.

This is why I'm fucked.