growing in the goo

This evening I was in Chinatown with dinner on my mind. I stood at the corner, waiting for the light to change so that I could cross the street.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hand timidly move between me and the girl next to me. The hand was grasping a tiny purple violet, and the flower was offered to the girl.

She swiftly turned down the offer, seemingly without a thought. The hand went to my side, and I looked at the person behind the gesture. A man, maybe in his 30s, maybe in his 40s. He had a beard, a dirty face, and sad eyes.

I said "No, thank you," and crossed the street.

I had gone about five paces when it hit me, and I just wanted to burst into tears. He had been holding two flowers. Had he seen us, and picked them for us, to brighten my day, her day, and his day?

I was so afraid of accepting because I didn't have any money on me. I didn't want to take the flower, and make him feel cheated when I didn't give him a dollar for his kindness. I didn't want to deprive him of a source of income, to feel like I owed him, and to feel bad for taking without giving in return.

It was the wrong decision.