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  Wow, that homeless guy was really cute
by Josephine Devine

We met by the Banklink. I was getting out some cash before I headed over to Next, he was sitting on the ground holding out a cup looking for change. Usually I'd ignore him like the others, but, fumbling for my wallet in the queue, I somehow caught his eye and ... I don't know, something seemed to pass between us. Literally speaking, he asked me if I had a few spare pence, but the body-language said something else altogether. He looked at me with those beautiful brown eyes, and I felt I knew him. Besides which, that homeless guy was damn cute!

I mean, really. You don't usually see that. There seems to be some unwritten rule that pretty people don't have to sleep rough. There must be some sort of a government action group which spots good-looking people about to fall
through the cracks and gives them jobs in Top Shop. So you can understand how upset I was to see such a ride sitting there on the ground in the freezing cold, obviously with no place to go.

He looked all pouty and sorrowful, like Johnny Depp under a rug. Though now that I think about it, he's probably got more reason to be sad than Johnny Depp. Still, I bet he gets all the chicks. In that brief instant we looked into
each other's souls, reached out across the boundary between our two worlds and touched, I was really fucking jealous of whatever homeless chick gets to curl up next to him in their sleeping bag in some doorway on Nassau Street at night.

God, I thought, I wish I was homeless. Then I collected myself. I realised he was talking to me again. "Any change for a hostel, Miss?" he asked. Almost automatically, I replied "Not fucking likely," and walked past him to the ATM.

Ah well, that's love for you.

 
 

 

 

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