My Walk, His Plea: Feed Me. A Tough Decision.
Short story
Last month, I was taking my usual morning walk when a man approached me. His request for money to buy food hung in the air.
I felt a twinge of unease as I gestured to show that I had no cash.
He countered, ‘Can you buy me a sandwich with your phone?’
I’d just passed a nearby bodega on the same block. I hesitated, my mind echoing with the fear of being taken advantage of. My thoughts drifted to Jordan Neely.
I remembered how I asked myself if I would have answered Neely’s pleas to be fed.
So, as I looked into the eyes of the man standing before me this morning, I made a decision.
‘Okay,’ I said, and we headed to the deli counter, ignoring internal warnings of being gullible, taken advantage of, or harmed.
The man ordered a chicken sandwich and turned to me, a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘Can I get a drink too?’ he asked.
I nodded, my voice steady, standing apart from him in the tight aisle.
When he pointed to an expensive beverage, I replied with a matter-of-fact tone, ‘How about water?’ he nodded, plucked it out of the fridge, and handed it to me.
I paid for his meal, and he expressed his gratitude profusely with a heartfelt, ‘Thank you, ma’am.’
Our paths parted then, as he waited for his sandwich. He was fed and I was safe.
Your living and death were not in vain, Jordan Neely–Rest In Peace, I thought.
(c) Copyright 2023 Scarlet Ibis James, All Rights Reserved.
I didn’t think of Jordan Neely or that man I bought a sandwich for that day until I came across Katy Lin’s story this morning:
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