As I parked in the alley behind Kentucky Fried Chicken, the old lady walked past me in the light rain, clutching a partly open pizza box that appeared to have come from a dumpster.
She wore a calf-length tattered coat, unmatched socks, worn running shoes, and a frayed, blue watch cap that covered her ears and much of her shoulder-length, gray hair.
As I got out of the car, she threw a napkin out of the box onto the ground. Miffed, I picked it up, smiled, and said, "Madam, you dropped this."
She turned around, revealing her red eyes and alcohol breath, and shouted, "F___ you, you sonovabitch!"
"Have a nice day."
"You can go to hell!"
Mumbling, she shuffled down the muddy alleyway.
The magic moment passed me by -- what if I had befriended her and bought her some KFC?
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I told this story to my friend Archimedes. He said" Here's a starving woman eating out of a dumpster, and you pick up the piece of paper she threw away.
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