Don’t Count It Tonight
Carmen was making about fifty-two thousand dollars a year doing the books for two small companies and taking in alterations in the evenings.
She had health insurance.
She had eleven thousand dollars in savings and a car that ran.
Her rent was thirteen hundred dollars and it was not comfortable and she made it every month for eight years without once being late, and I know that because she showed me, later, in a way I deserved.
Beto was not busking for money.
He was singing on a corner because there is a spot there where people sing, and because he is a kid who likes singing, and because a woman he had begged for four consecutive Saturdays had eventually said fine, an hour, and had sat on a planter with a book eleven feet away to watch him do it.
The hat was his idea.
She let him keep it.
It was mostly quarters and he was saving for something involving a bicycle.
I looked at a woman letting her kid have a good time on a Saturday and I saw a rescue.