She must have seen better times. The glint in her speaks of them and yet, she stands, knocking glass doors of transitory vehicles that have stopped impatiently. I wind down the window and feel the gush of the afternoon sun invade the luxury of conditioned air within. I sigh, place a few coins on her calloused palms. She smiles. And reaches her hand above my head. Gently. And plants a blessing.
With it, she enlightens me. I know now, who the beggar is.
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