The guy with the eye patch is back at the top of the subway stairs, garrulous as ever, flirting with the ladies and chatting with the kids, punctuating each exchange with his signature phrase: "Can you please help me out."
But this new one that I see wandering up and down my block, skinny and mean looking, she doesn't seem nearly as friendly or engaged. She's got a suspicious squint and leathered skin, and she asks me something that turns out to be just her hitting me up for a dollar.
"No thank you," I say, putting my headphones back in and continuing on my way.
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