The big, black guy with the narrow head and the crazy eyes turns, just as I walk past, making sure to smack my hand with his hand, and I hear something fall to the ground a second later.
"Hey," he calls to me, showing me the glasses that barely fit his head and the obviously old, sharp crack right in the center of one lens. Looking as mean as he can, he says, "Can you do something to fix this?"
"Sorry, man, I don't have any money." I say, walking away.