"Spare some change?"
        Without even a glance, they continue walking with a hot cup of coffee in their hand without a second thought. It probably cost them around five dollars for that little pleasure they consume on a daily basis they believe they need. Why is it that they will buy these expensive items for themselves and not even give a little to someone who is having a harder time than they are? Of course, I don't expect them to help me. Everyone has their own problems and I don't want to burden someone else by making them help me in my time of need. Sadly, because of Tuberculosis, along with the mouth cover doctors usually wear during operations, I tend to scare off those I tried to plead for help. There are government programs like welfare but I don't like the idea that someone must be forced to give their money to others, but instead should do it out of kindness.
 
        Rubbing my hands together and hoping the friction will keep me going in this cold weather of New York, I carefully come to my feet and begin to walk aimlessly, looking for the next meal. As a beggar, you tend to lose inhibitions and pride as your need to live increases. Trashcans become havens for hidden sources of food such as half-eaten pizza and old bread. Ironically, as much as I hate people who spend on items they will just waste later, I have to depend on this to be able to gain what little strength I can get. In my surroundings I see people with the latest technology such as tablets, expensive laptops, and other mediums of entertainment that probably cost more than what I have seen in the past few years. Hoping these people have more money than they know what do with, I begin to approach the park where the tech-savvy individuals have gathered.
 
        I start to head towards a man who seems to be lost in collection of music. Standing in front of him, I begin to try to make conversation. "Hello." That was all I could say before I had to release a hoarse of a cough. The man, noticing my coughing, decides to keep looking at his expensive technology, hoping I would grow tired and walk away. Being determined, I continue to attempt social interaction. "Not to bother you, sir, but would it be possible to spare some change for the down-trotted?" Looking up, he begins to scan my body to analyze the situation he was in. Within a few moments, he responds by getting up and speed-walking in any direction that did not involve me in his path.
 
        Becoming discouraged, I fall onto a nearest park bench and begin to cry. What am I to do? I can't work, I lost my family, and I can't do anything! All I can do is try to stay strong, but having to depend on others is just inhuman. Being a human is being able to make your own decisions and live life the way you want to, but as a beggar, you do not get those freedoms. You have to rely on others' good-will and hope to be able to live for another day. My crying only intensifies as I begin to see myself as dirt to the common man only to be interrupted by the occasional cough. Since they do not know me and know that any actions they do are not viewed by others, they simply choose the more selfish option and to just ignore me. Just ignore me and hope that I get out of their way so they can get back to their session of Angry Birds.
 
        Continuing to cry, I can hear footsteps crunching in the snow. Covering up my eyes to hide my shame, I try to locate where the noises are coming from. "Hello." I hear this salutation from behind me. Fearing it was a police officer who was told of my presence, I prepare to make a run for it. "Wait!" I stop dead in my tracks as those words ring through the cold weather. Turning around, I see a man in a sweater with a small boy next to him playing with a toy tank in the snow. Calming down, I decide to hear what this stranger has to say.
 
        "Yes sir?" Is the only response I could think of since I almost thought I was going to be arrested for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but this man actually gives me a response. "Well I saw you here all by yourself and I had just gone shopping and I thought you could use this." From his, what I thought was a treasure chest full of wonders, small plastic bags appears a roll of bread. "Here." Examining the piece of bread, I begin to walk towards the kind man. The little boy begins to throw the tank at nearby children while the father is not paying attention, probably trying to interact with others but is unable to express his want for friendship because of his too hostile actions. All I can do as sigh, knowing that this man must do a lot for his son, and that helping me is just something he wants to do; he is not forced to do.
 
        "Sir, I don't have anything you could want for that piece of bread." I say this with precaution, for I am still in disbelief that a man wants to give me something without any catch. The kind man responds as fluently as he did the last time. "Well, my friend, I believe in giving to those who have had a hard life. I do not do this because it will improve my social standing or get me closer into heaven, but I do it because it is the right thing to do." As tears come flowing from my eyes again, I shake my head profusely as I accept this offering. With my Tuberculosis, though, I begin to cough profusely around the man and his child. Turning away, I begin to apologize, thank him, and begin to run away with more than just a piece of bread. As I lose my hearing of the father and his little boy, I begin to hear the boy coughing profusely too.