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The Winter of Mixed Feelings

The Hurstwood chugs a cup for his daily pay. He chugs his cup, chants his change, change, change. There is one on Madison Street. I've been seeing him for ten years now sitting on a milk crate while he chugs. Most beggars only lean their elbows on their milk crates, but this man actually sits on his. I will be happy the day he disappears. Sometimes he yawns between chugs. Change, change, change. But he will never change. He will never beg enough.