Leaving a store one November day, he gave his scarf to a begging crack addict. He felt good about it, because Jesus tells us to care for the dirty ones. All week, he thought of the smelly man sitting and begging with a warm scarf wrapped around his twisty beard. He felt like a good Christian.
But soon the temperatures turned sub-zero, and the giver lost his other scarf. He walked around the city with deadly wind slashing his face and drying out his skin. He imagined the feel of fleece on his cheeks; he longed for the soft fabric moistened by his warm breath.
One icy day he stood waiting for a bus. The roads were covered in snow, and his normal ten-minute wait had extended to half a hour. He paced. He bounced up and down. With numb fingers, he held the collar of his coat close to his mouth and breathed into it. The cold wind cut through his jeans, and is mind whirred with vicious thoughts.
"That irresponsible goon," he whispered sharply through his cracked lips. "He probably lost my scarf already. Passed out drunk on the train and some other druggie stole it. I hate crack addicts."
Soon the warm bus came and carried him to work.
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