Stop that Guy!
It is about 7 in the evening. A homeless man and his companion are out on the sidewalk. The man is on the makeshift bed with his head on a pillow. The woman is near him, glancing at him from time to time. There is a large coffee cup by the woman’s left leg. Some coins and about $35 dollars are in the cup. A young guy comes over to where the man and woman are. In his hand there are several coins. He pretends to put the coins in the cup. Quickly he grabs the cup and runs away. The woman gets up from her milk crate seat. No! No! she shouts as the young thief rushes down the subway stairs. He stole her money, somebody says, rushing after him. The woman stands by the subway stairs. Her leg is in pain. I can’t go after the thief too. I might fall down because of the stress. She goes back to her milk crate and dials the operator. Call the police, the operator tells her. The woman knows where the nearest police station is. Only 3 blocks, corner of Lexington. The young officer behind the information desk has a plate of food before him. Yes, can I help you? The woman tells her story as the officer gives her an up and down look. Where do you live? He asks her. She answers nothing. What does this have to do with being robbed she asks herself. The officer repeats the question. The Bronx, she says. I live in the Bronx. And you were asking people for money. She smiles faintly. The Bronx is not exactly Palm Springs, CA, she wants to say but doesn’t quite dare. I am about to be homeless and I was with my friend. Is it your money, the near $40 or his? It’s his money, she says. Then tell your friend to come here tomorrow morning to file a police report. Tomorrow morning? He was robbed tonight. Yes, tomorrow morning. The woman sighs. I must have disturbed his dinnertime, she thinks. Thank you, she says and walks away. What happened tonight with the guy stealing the money was the lowest of the low. I didn’t even get help from the police.