He asked if I had a nickel or dime for the local scumbag, and I gave him a quarter. Then I went back and asked why he was the local scumbag. He said, "It's complicated," and not much else, and I concurred that it's always complicated.
The really weird thing is that he reminded me of my nephew. Talked like him, looked a lot like him. This is especially weird because I can't imagine Tyson ever being in such a predicament. He's a hard worker and family man, and career soldier.
The kid was covered with scrapes and bruises, some of them with bandaids. He said he still had pride in himself and I told him not to give up on himself. I gave him another quarter.
What we do to ourselves and our children is heartrending.