A disheveled kid, maybe twenty, was sitting on The Stone. The Stone held the plaque dedicated to the park’s fallen firefighter namesake.
Disrespectful.
Raymond could lecture, but what good would it do?
“Scuse me,” the disrespectful kid said.
“No money, no cigarettes,” Raymond said.
The kid said “I don’t want a cigarette. Moved here three months ago. Job didn’t work out. Just learned my Dad died in Tucson. I…I can’t go back. I just need a hug.”
Raymond rolled his eyes. He pulled a menthol from his pack.
“Here ya go kid. A cigarette is a hug from the inside.”
***
Photo by Tom Barrett on Unsplash
I’m glad I’m not accepting hugs anymore