Early summer in New York is hardly blazing, which is a small mercy; the temperate weather makes it easier for you to park yourself in a narrow band of shade by the side of a building and sit there for hours, rattling carefully-seeded change in a Starbucks cup at passing tourists. The fact that darkness is falling, however, does little to aid you, as soon you will be shrouded by the coming night and thus easier for the annoyed and apathetic passers-by to ignore. At most, you have another hour before you need to find somewhere to crash and count out the pickings for the last few hours. Hopefully you'll have enough to duck into Subway for a sandwich or something.
God, panhandling sucks donkey dick.
"Spare change?" you grunt at what is probably some passing hipster douchefuck; you can't see well enough to tell. Everything's a blur. Sucks to be you, you guess. Regardless of your shitty vision, whoever it is strides just that much more purposefully past you.Things have been going like this all day; you've probably made less than ten bucks since you sat down here this morning.
A blurry something-or-other approaches in what passes for your peripheral vision. You turn your head to peer at it and stick out your cup perhaps a little more aggressively than you should. "Hey, spare a quarter? I'm fucking starving here."