Troubles
Soup Kitchen
The doors finally open. There are only 3 people in front of me, so I know I'll be able to get some of the good food. I quickly wash my hands in the sink by the door, before I grab a plate and brush it off with my clean hands. I shovel everything I can get on my plate until there's barely any room left, then place a piece of bread on top and grab some cutlery.
When I'm about to sit down, a guy behind me yells.
“This boy isn't homeless!” I turn around to see an old man with a dirty, white beard and messy gray hair. He's pointing a crooked finger at me.
“I hear money in his pocket!” he keeps yelling. I look around to see that people are staring at me. Some look outraged, some concerned, and a few are on my side and look sympathetic and pitiful.
Suddenly, I'm on the floor. The old man's got his hand in my pocket and I feel the weight of my coins leave along with his hand.
“See!” he screams and holds them in the air. I quickly reach up and pull at his sleeve to get my money back, but he's stronger than he looks.
“He doesn't deserve our food!” I use his sleeve to pull myself up to sit on my ass, and then grab my money out of his raised hand. A coin falls on the floor and I grab it before it hits the linoleum twice in case anyone jumps to get it.
I look around.
Everybody is staring, all with the same look in their eye.
I get up off the floor and put my money back in my pocket. I then sit down at the table, in front of my plate and quietly eat my food. I eat it quickly. The old man is told to sit down and eat his food, while someone feels sorry for me and brings me a cup of water.
I smile up at the person fleetingly.
I stop eating and look up again.
My stomach hurts all the way up into my throat. Gerard smiles weakly, before he turns around and walks off into the back room where only volunteers are allowed to go.
No.
When I'm about to sit down, a guy behind me yells.
“This boy isn't homeless!” I turn around to see an old man with a dirty, white beard and messy gray hair. He's pointing a crooked finger at me.
“I hear money in his pocket!” he keeps yelling. I look around to see that people are staring at me. Some look outraged, some concerned, and a few are on my side and look sympathetic and pitiful.
Suddenly, I'm on the floor. The old man's got his hand in my pocket and I feel the weight of my coins leave along with his hand.
“See!” he screams and holds them in the air. I quickly reach up and pull at his sleeve to get my money back, but he's stronger than he looks.
“He doesn't deserve our food!” I use his sleeve to pull myself up to sit on my ass, and then grab my money out of his raised hand. A coin falls on the floor and I grab it before it hits the linoleum twice in case anyone jumps to get it.
I look around.
Everybody is staring, all with the same look in their eye.
I get up off the floor and put my money back in my pocket. I then sit down at the table, in front of my plate and quietly eat my food. I eat it quickly. The old man is told to sit down and eat his food, while someone feels sorry for me and brings me a cup of water.
I smile up at the person fleetingly.
I stop eating and look up again.
My stomach hurts all the way up into my throat. Gerard smiles weakly, before he turns around and walks off into the back room where only volunteers are allowed to go.
No.