I stop in at the Laundromat, place my clothes in a machine, then run next door to the dollar store to buy detergent. When I return I notice an older, bearded man in a state of half-undress cleaning his feet with a towel. I do my best to ignore him as I load my clothes into the machine and put some coins in the slot. Someone taps on my arm and I spin around, expecting it to be the homeless man – but it’s the clerk from the dollar store next door. He’s brought me the dollar change I forgot to pick up when I bought the detergent. I thank him profusely then go back to my task. The homeless man, witnessing this exchange, says to me, ‘Boy, I could use a buck too!’ I turn to face him and shrug, not entirely sure what conclusions he’s drawn from the money handoff he’s just witnessed. Before I turn away he launches into a story about some ‘rich prick’ who only put six cents in his cup this morning then acted like he was being generous. ‘Can you believe it,’ he repeats, ‘six fucking cents!’ He shakes his head sadly. ‘People these days,’ he says, and winks at me. With this gesture of complicity it suddenly dawns on me that he’s interpreted the money handoff as a form of charity, that he assumes I too was panhandling!