Twenty Dollars

This story has been published by Abandoned Towers magazine



 

  Twenty dollars. Twenty whole dollars. The tramp bent down and picked them up. Still dry. Just been dropped by the look of it. He peered round cautiously. Not a cop in sight. Just people hurrying to get out of the rain. Nobody paying attention to him; but then, they never did.

  There was a bar right across the street. Macey's. They did not like him in Macey's. Said he lowered the tone, which was a laugh. But they wouldn't throw him out this time. Not when he could pay.

  Whiskey, that's what he wanted. Some of that good whiskey. No ice. No soda. He'd slap his money on the bar as if he owned the place, and feel like a human being again. For a while.

  But first he had to get inside and there was a kid blocking the door and the kid was bawling. "Mister?" he said. "Hey, mister, have you seen twenty dollars? Pa's beer money? If I don't find it, he'll…"

  Well, Goddamnit! The tramp glared at the kid, then shoved the money into his hand. The kid gave a shout of happiness and ran into the bar. The tramp wandered back to the park, keeping his eyes hopefully on the ground.