The only umbrella I've ever had really gave me a homeless man.
It was winter and I took the last train in the ring railway home. A man walked through the ranks and tried to sell the homeless people. He had dark curls. He looked soft and pretty. I bought him off in copy.
"If he can not live because of Hartz IV," asked a chubby blonde next to me, "but it is for everyone?" It did not sound even hateful, is more honest Interest. I always wonder how it feels like if you had to give his name to a benefit cut that everyone hates.
"They can not, which are on the ground", I tried to understand the situation of homeless people in the chubby wife to wake next to me, crazy or drug problems.
I had no time to check everything, if I could convince them. I was off and had arrived at my stop. Only when I stood on the platform, I noticed that the young newspaper vendor got out with me. He was angry at the door of the departing train.
"You Just understand nothing, "he yelled.
Then he abruptly changed the raging homeless newspaper vendors to consummate gentleman. It was raining and he offered me his umbrella. I waved him off, horrified.
"A man can not see a woman just standing in the rain," he claimed. After we both continue to insist a bit of each on our views and had danced around it were, I took the screen at last. A woman can not simply deflect chivalry that comes from the heart, no matter what state the knight comes along.
On the way out of the station described to me my knight its constitution. He told of the death of his wife and how he had come by under the wheels: alcohol, drugs, no more work to no home. His parents took care of his child. He hoped soon to come back on their feet.
Even when our ways parted, he would not take his umbrella back. I wished him luck. He invited me to come in once the homeless at my cafe around the corner, where he sometimes stayed overnight.
I've never been married there. How could I know if I would meet him there? And the other guests I certainly would not want to have there. I, who live in the nice warm room with a roof over his head and a family among them.
The screen is already long broken, but I could throw him. Whenever I see him, I must think of the knight who gave it to me. A bit of bad conscience, I get it, and I feel a little tenderness.
I hope he now has a roof over their head, perhaps even together with his son.
