His back leaned against a wall while his dust ridden face peered down at the ground. His eyes darted from one cigarette butt to the next, and finally, made a triangle with a crushed beer can. Counting the butts and the cans, he slowly peeled his foot off the wall and languidly marched down the street.

"Spare chang'?" he mumbled to a passerby, reluctantly looking into their eyes. No verbal answer came except for the heavy footsteps gaining speed as the man in a white collar shirt passed him.

"Spare chang'?" he grunted again to a group of young twenty-somethings standing around drinking frozen lattes. But again, no sound came except for some muffled laughter that was trying to be concealed.

Walking down the wide, affluent streets, staring up at the clean buildings where no smudge marks dirtied windows, he stared off into the setting sun and sighed, "Ah, well, I've enough for a beer any how, mighs as well have one."