"Excuse me sir, miss... could you care enough to spare a dime for the unfortunate ?"
Sir, Miss.. I'm sorry, please help me.
My voice, muffled by the footsteps of the worker class. I begged and I begged using a cup of plastic I ransacked from the trashes.
Eating the only food that kind strangers gave me.
In special occasions, a kind soul would give me some coins—silver ones. No gold ones. My back was facing a grime filled wall, enough to help my aching back. But never the smell.
On a good, great day. My daily "salary" is around 5.000 Rupiahs or 5.500 Rupiahs if I was lucky.
Enough to buy a sweet iced tea and some snacks. But not enough to quell the hunger.
Ocassionally, I would wander in some alleyways begging for help from the same homeless ones I mocked.
Karmic punishment did its due.
I'm hungry, please Miss. Sir. Anyone ?
My clothes became more tattered from the dogs or just naughty children. Rounding about 13 holes in my shirt. News reported that beggars, such as me had enough money to buy a car in just one day of begging.
When will I ever get that ?
Was my strategy truly full of flaws ?
Do I have to up my dirty look more ?
A trip to the trash bank could help.
Those darned imposters. Just wanting to use this situation just for their benefits. A dang capitalist, I would say.
After the factual news spread, my annual sallary became 1 million rupiahs from those begging "trips"... though, cutting the costs with both food and water. That money bid its farewell in just one day of living.
I hate it here. It's cold, sticky, and so... hot. The sweat from the harsh morning sun hit my face, casting a bright, blinding look towards my eyes.
I'm tired. And even not the comfiest bed would satiate this soreness.
Is there any trees here ? Or is it just my cardboard hiding my face ?
....
Where did I put my jacket again ?