Sunday

Five 88 cent little pizzas.
Two huge cantaloupes.
A box of generic raisin bran.
A two liter bottle of orange soda.
He was probably 75, 76 years old.
I could picture him putting
a little pizza in the oven every night
and eating it.
He looked out the windown as he chewed it.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted him to have the best rest of his life
he could possibly have.
I wanted him to win the lottery.
I prayed for him. I don't do much prayin.
Why do I even care about this complete
stranger?
He finished his transaction and walked out.

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