Michael’s Story: Of The Least Of These, Again


I’ve seen him countless times.
Usually hunched over, head covered with a ratty blanket, likely only half asleep, at best, in the relatively early morning quiet. As quiet, that is, as New York City’s Second Avenue can ever really be. Sometimes, we’ve only just acknowledged each other with a wave as I passed by on my way to work.
That very first time that I had met him, though, it was only 5:30 in the morning, and he was very much awake, next in line at Dunkin’ Donuts


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