Maybe its not me...

He was pointing wildly at the door, swinging his arm in an exaggerated swoop.
“GET OUT ! You can’t be in here like that, you can’t!” He was practically running out of his “island” still furiously gesturing towards the door. His eyes were wide with panic.
“I want the water, I want the cheetos, and I’ll be on my way, let me pay for them.” I uncurled my fist.
“Three dollars should cover them, right?”I was practically screeching. I pressed the dollar bills to his chest with my thumb, but instead of bone …. it was soft.
“What the heck?” I stepped back. I thought he was just a typical college kid in slouchy clothes but no, he was wearing several sets of shirts and pants. He slapped the dollars from my hand. A crowd had gathered, the situation was getting worse. The same people who were oblivious to me earlier and I to them, were yelling incoherently. I had been encircled by what appeared to be hoboes all wearing layer upon layer of clothing. I raised my bottled water high above my head ready to swing.

This story has no comments.