Narrative about a homeless soldier.
Work For Food
"Will work for food." The words were neatly written in black magic marker on a jagged piece of brown cardboard. A filthy man about forty-five held the sign. He wore a pair of dirty, blood stained military fatigues; a green t-shirt, tattered and frayed; a military issue jacket whose patches needed patched; and combat boots, worn with holes, allowing his dirt and sweat stained socks to peek through. He huddled over a subway grate trying to keep warm. Holding his weather beaten sign, he hoped that someone would recognize that he was more than just a bum asking for a hand ou…
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