five: Slight-of-hands

The rain turns idealized hippy impressions of homelessness in Berkeley a bit sour.
The two guys working at Fred’s deli on Telegraph have seen people pile under their awning for years; they know many of their names.
They buy three overpriced coffees at an upscale café.
They walk back, passing the extra cup into the shaking hands of a tousled Man warming up in their store.
He thanks them, insisting he doesn’t need it, steps back outside to his wet sleeping bag and the unfriendly, piercing night.
Then he gives the hot cup to the coldest hands he can find.