In a dark alley outside a club, a homeless man clutched his stomach in pain. He cursed at the violent scums who rained punches on him after he called out their disgusting actions.

 

The homeless man staggered as he stood up. He picked up his backpack slung it over his shoulder. The recently dumped half-eaten burger that he managed to pick in the trash can now lay crushed on the dusty ground.

 

His stomach growled in hunger but he ignored it.

 

The angel would provide.

 

At first, he was skeptical. After all, God had forsaken him and reduced him to becoming poor and homeless. But then the paper bag appeared from the heavens. It would be there when he woke up every morning. For a year he had never been without one meal at least.

 

As soon as he woke up there would be a paper bag by his side. Inside it was a meal, water bottles, and other necessities. The angel was clever. He even included a shaving cream and a disposable razor.

 

He wished he would see the angel so that he could thank him. But when stayed awake to wait and see, the angel wouldn’t appear. He concluded that the heavenly being would appear only when he was asleep.

 

He had to leave it at that. Perhaps angels had strict rules to follow. He would rather wake up with a meal and water the next day than be without.

 

Before the angel appeared, he had already been homeless for six months.

 

It was a tough and trying time.

 

He used to be a successful lawyer with a stable income. He enjoyed all the luxury money could buy.

 

He went through a divorce. Good thing his ex-wife was not so difficult. He was spared from paying any financial support.

 

Before his divorce, he invested in a company that his mistress told him to finance. However, the bitch scammed him and ran with his money. He was accused of embezzlement and was fired from his job. He had to pay a ridiculous amount of bail just so he would not remain in jail as he awaited trial.

 

During this time, he depended on alcohol every night just to forget how fucked up his life had been.

 

He withdrew all his savings from the bank. He sold all his possessions including his condo, cars, and expensive watches. Not one furniture was spared. It took a lot of money but eventually, all charges on him had been dropped.

 

He managed to live in a one-bedroom apartment until the landlady kicked him out after being unable to pay for two months.

 

He did try to apply for a job. However, no one wanted to hire someone with a criminal record even if the charges were dropped.

 

Never in his 45 years of existence had he thought that he would end up homeless.

 

He spiraled into a vagrant who roamed and slept on the streets. 

 

The only good thing coming out of his empty pockets was that he did not sink further into alcohol addiction.

 

It was almost impossible to find a job with no house. Employers didn’t want to hire a person with no fixed address.  He had to resort to begging on the streets just to survive.

 

The most difficult thing about being homeless was to not look homeless. People judged him with his appearance. He couldn’t enter a store without being openly disdained for looking poor.

 

Business establishments often drove unkempt people away. They were bad for the business they said. Customers would guard their belongings whenever he would pass by as though he would steal their stuff. Even mothers would pull their children close.

 

Not all public bathrooms were exactly safe. He had to be extra cautious when he entered one. Thugs can enter, lock the door, and use you as a punching bag.

 

Keeping up one’s appearance was difficult when you only have the clothes on your body and only a spare. Grooming was difficult to maintain with no money to buy hygiene products. Public bathrooms didn’t have dispensable soap all the time.

 

Being homeless meant moving constantly otherwise he would be fined for being homeless. He had to walk everywhere. He had to rummage through the trash for a meal without being caught by the police.

He couldn’t sit down to rest for a long time without being shooed and told to move away somewhere. No one wanted a homeless person around. It was difficult to find a warm and safe place to sleep.

 

When he stayed in a shelter, he shared everything including the shower, the toilet, and other facilities with more than 25 people. He slept with the mentally and physically incapacitated, annoyingly stupid people and men with sinister looks in their eyes. There were druggies and alcoholics mixed with women and children. It was dirty, chaotic, and dangerous despite the rigid schedules. One time a veteran with anger issues stabbed another person with a fork. From then on, he rarely went to a shelter.

 

He had to be on guard all the time. When you are out on the streets, you are free game for anybody be it thieves or ruffians who just wanted to exercise their fists.

 

Despair, frustration, and distrust simmered within his exhausted body. Every day was an unending fight for survival. He was everywhere but he was getting nowhere. 

 

After walking for hours, he finally arrived at his usual spot under the bridge. There was another homeless person beside him. But they did not do him harm nor approach him. Still, he had to remain vigilant though. You never know when people are just waiting for an opportunity to mess with you when you are least prepared.

 

He threw the carton on the ground on which he rolled out his sleeping bag. He placed his backpack inside first before sliding in. That one time when his belongings were stolen in his sleep was enough warning to be more cautious of thieves.

 

The man closed his eyes. His face was now swollen in pain. He could feel the tender bruises forming on his abdomen. But he was not worried.

 

There was no need to worry.

 

The angel will provide.

 

At three o’clock in the morning when all people were asleep, a paper bag appeared beside the sleeping man. In it were the usual food and water bottles. But it also included green gel capsules of Ibuprofen.