Cigarettes came first to mind.. He could be a short pack and still have change left over. Then again, there were half-smoked butts at the entrance to every subway in the city. There was no need to waste the money on something he could pick up for free anytime he anted. That ruled out all sorts of food, since the restaurants were numerous and their refuse was plentiful.Surely there had to be something practical. But the deeper he thought, the more confused he became. What did he need that couldn't be found in the rubbish? He had even seen cookware, refrigerators, radios and televisions left by the streetsides to be hauled away. There was little to be bought that couldn't be scavenged. What good was money that couldn't be spent? His head began to ache.
Quickly, he looked at his watch. It was seven past twelve. Gliding in its circular route, the sweep hand was falling slowly away from the twelve to the one to the two, drifting down the right side of the face until it hung for an instant at the bottom on the six. Then, it began a hard climb up the other side. He could feel himself rising with the slender hand as they reached together for the seven, the eight and the nine. Time was so painfully slow, yet so constant and so terribly powerful in its movement. He felt elated as he strove for the ten, the eleven and gained the twelve, clinging at the very top for a mere second, only to begin that steady, floating descent on the way back down to the bottom.
Rising and falling with the sweep hand, lost in the limitless turnings of time, his hunger, the money, his past and the world grew as hazy and faded as dreams in the sunlight. When he finally regained consciousness, it was twelve thirty-four. His head was a bit dizzy, but untroubled. He was sitting upright by the curb and in his hand, along with the watch, were three coins worth ´120.
He jingled the coins lightly, just to be sure they were real. A stranger carrying a camera bag emerged from the little restaurant nearby and began approaching the corner. In his hand was the uncounted change from the meal he had just finished. The scavenger studied him carefully. There as something very familiar about him.
"Down and out, eh?" said the stranger as he reached the corner where he tramp as sitting. He stretched out his hand and motioned for the vagabond to take the change. But instead, the tramp reached out and placed his own three coins in the stranger's hand with an understanding smile.
While the stranger looked on in astonishment, the tramp rose, bowed deeply and picked up his shopping bag. It was growing late. The second set of races would soon begin, for the lunch hour was drawing to a close and the workers would be returning to their offices. The tramp turned and stepped into the street, just as the signal changed to green.
