"How about Sonomas?"

"Whatever, whatever is under five dollars these days."

People do what they can.

I do what I can.

People do what they can to get by.

A veteran plays the banjo in the shade as traffic whizzes by, gives me a hug and plays me a song on the harmonica because I salute him every time I bike by.

Another man drinks a hurricane at 9am, offers me free pretzels for sitting with him, listening to his stories of training sailors for the sea. I declined nicely, knowing he won't remember me if I ever went to his shop.

I visit a man too young to be as sickly as he is, even though most it is his own fault. He makes me a glass of fresh blueberry tea and shows me pictures of him and his family.

"Good acts will come back to you."

I dropped my money after already exiting the subway car. Someone asked me for change en route to my stop, I gave him what I could, he threw the fallen money out the door for me to grab as the doors were closing.

"You mean the world to me."

Andrew.

He shares whatever he has with me, and I with him. Helps me delay the sickness, puts up with my on going shit, and the people that seem to endlessly shit on him. He works crazy hours and is told he doesn't work hard enough. His sister is in the hospital. I wish when all the numbers on the clock are the same, for some of his good acts to come back to him.