But I feel bad for him in his ragged clothes. As the temperature drops, I worry about him.
He’s begun wearing a Santa hat. This morning, I pulled up to the light and rolled down my window.
“Merry Christmas, sir!” he said.
“Good morning,” I said, handing him my winter coat.
“Thank you!” he said, flashing a gap-toothed smile.
“Merry Christmas,” I said, pulling away.