I'll Show You My World

We were sitting down, leaning against the small tree, just chatting. I was barely conscious of the eyes upon us as people passed.

"So what were you doing this morning?" I asked him.

"I needed to get some picks for my guitar." He reached over and patted his large black guitar case. "You probably thought I was leaving 'cause I took all my stuff, when really I just have to bring all my stuff with me wherever I go."

I nodded. He couldn't afford to lose his stuff. That made sense.

"And you. You watch me." It wasn't a question.

I was embarrassed. "Yes..."

"Why?" I looked at him and saw that there was humor deep in his eyes and amusement plain on his face.

"In my free time I have nothing to do."

"What do you do for a living?"

I turned my head and gestured to my shop. "I'm a tattoo artist. I work at England Ink."

"England Ink? You work there? Huh." He stared off into the distance.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. I heard that they were closing down though." He looked back at me with teasing eyes. He was joking.

"Nuh uh!" I hit his arm playfully. "Shut up."

He laughed, which made me smile.

"Here, I'll make you a deal," I said suddenly.

"A deal? What kind of deal?" He narrowed his eyes at me in suspicion.

"If you stay here and continue to do what you do, I'll give you a dollar a day." I couldn't afford him leaving me. Just like he couldn't afford leaving his bags unattended.

"A dollar a day?" He thought of it for a while. I wondered for a moment if a dollar was considered a lot to a homeless guy. Finally he said, "Deal."