WHOOOOOSH… Click-click click-clack, click-click click-clack.

I stood at the crossing, waiting for the 7:30 train to pass, hands shoved deep in my pockets. Morning commuters and leisurely pedestrians zipped by on the adjacent streets, the occasional horn blasting, and I tried to put a voice to them as usual. ‘Hey, on your left’, one might have said, ‘Sorry, didn’t see you!’ another honked back, while a third angrily blasted ‘Watch where you’re walking,’ at a jaywalking pedestrian. 

People bumped and jostled each other on the crowded sidewalk, filling the crisp October air with shouted greetings (and more commonly, profanity.) Somewhere down the block someone shouted ‘Heyyyy, Paulie!’ which was met with a resounding ‘Eyyyy!’

The train finally finished its crossing, and the bars lifted. I jogged across the tracks along with a few others, adding the slap of my well worn converse to the rush of morning foot traffic. Despite the chill it wasn’t a bad morning, and I had the promise of breakfast to look forward to. 

I hooked my thumbs under the straps of my backpack and picked up the pace, jogging to beat the next intersection crosswalk red light. A taxi honked and I smiled, waving at the driver (who replied with an enthusiastic middle finger) as I finished crossing.

About halfway down 22nd street was a great breakfast joint - literally all they did was breakfast, open from 5am to 11am, 7 days a week. I have no idea how they stay open. Standing out front I got a good look at the daily specials, French toast with a choice of toppings? Awesome! 

I grinned, watching a couple entering the building. He held the door for his girl, and she rolled her eyes, shoving his shoulder gently as she stepped inside. Cute. My stomach was growling at the smells released through the open door, so I decided I had waited long enough to satisfy my hunger. Continuing past the festive holiday trimmed glass doors, I hooked around the side of the building, ducking into an alleyway and following it back. Set against the far wall was a big dumpster, with a wiry figure already bent over rummaging through it, standing on a milk crate for height. 

“Morning, Pete.” I said with a smile. He jumped slightly and looked back, smiling when he saw me.

“Hey, mornin’ Kit.” He shot back. “You’re late!”

“Yeah, sorry!” I laughed, “Got caught in traffic coming across 20th.” I grabbed one of the other milk crates and joined him in the search. It didn’t take too long to find what I was after - a bag that revealed a fairly good collection of French Toast. It looked a bit slimy, but most of it was fine. Restaurants always tossed perfectly edible food because of some weird reason or another. I wasn’t going to complain though! Picking a few egg shells or other trash off the bread was still better than paying $10 I didn’t have for a slice of fancy toast. You could usually tell what was going to be in the bins by the specials of the day - restaurants always put the stuff that’s close to getting tossed on special. 

“Nice!” Pete said as he looked over at the treasure trove of toast - six or so good slices that weren’t too badly mangled or mixed in with other garbage deeper in the bag. I pulled a couple out, checking them for anything too shady. I kept two slices, and carefully set the bag back in on top of the pile. If anyone else came scrounging, they’d have a pretty good shot at the other slices.

I took a seat on the milk crate I’d been standing on, and Pete did the same beside me, abandoning his search for anything interesting in the dumpster. “Haven’t seen you in a couple days. Thought you got picked up!” Pete raised a hand for a fist bump, which I returned..

“Nah,” I shot back as I chewed, “Just busy. Almost got enough to get those pants I was looking at down at the Goodwill. Just in time, right?” I laughed, shoving a hand in my pocket and wiggling a finger out through the obvious hole. 

Pete laughed. “New clothes? Big spender.” He shifted on his crate, adjusting the straps of his backpack over his school jacket.

“Hey, sometimes you gotta treat yourself.” I shrugged, and took another bite.

“I could always give you stuff I don’t wear anymore, you know?” Pete shot back. 

“Nah, that’s OK. I’ll be fine!” I’d accepted some stuff from Pete in the past, but I tried not to make a habit of it. He was a nice enough guy - about my age, maybe a year or two younger, so I guessed somewhere around 14-15. He also wasn’t like me. Pete had a nice house and family to go home to. He only did the scrounging thing because he liked hanging out with me. We’d been friends since we met by chance two years back in an alleyway. I had a pretty bad cold and he heard me coughing. He knew his parents wouldn’t let me into their apartment, so instead he smuggled out a blanket and a bottle of cough syrup.I still keep that blanket tucked away in my backpack, so I can curl up under it on cold nights. 

“If you say so, man.” Pete shrugged, pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. “Shit, I gotta run or I’ll be late again. See you tomorrow?” he asked as he stood, walking towards the exit of the alleyway.

“You bet.” I smiled and gave him a thumbs up. I still don’t quite get what Pete gets out of our daily trash diving ritual - I know for me it’s food and sometimes stuff I can turn in for recycling cash, but it’s not like he needs any of that. His parents make good money, if the fancy school uniform he wears was any indication - which in my book, it was.

Not that I was jealous or anything. I mean, I got to be free, roaming where I pleased, doing what I want. I hadn’t set foot inside a school since I was 13. Hard to believe sometimes that I’d been on my own for three years now. I like to think I’m doing pretty good, actually! I know the city well enough to know where I can get a reasonably reliable breakfast and dinner. Some days it’s just dinner, but I never go completely hungry - Not since I found Jenny’s. They opened like 2 years ago, and I’d become a regular shopper at their dumpster.

Finishing off my breakfast, I wiped my hands on my pants and stood up, ready for the day. I had to start my circuit of the parks if I wanted a shot at any good recyclables to cash in before the park cleanup groups hit it. Sure, they were doing a good deed, but they were just doing it for some kind of community service. I was doing it because I was still $3 away from my new shorts. My latest major savings project.

I hooked my thumbs into the straps of my backpack, and after finding a good spot to duck into the flow of foot traffic, was on my way towards my first stop of the day.

==========

Night had settled in over the city, and my stomach was rumbling to let me know I’d been out and about way too long. I guess I’d gotten spoiled by eating pretty regularly. Still, dinner wasn’t far off. I rounded the corner of Fifth and Burton, walking past the electronics shop with its display of glowing wide screen TVs behind security glass. 

“...42nd annual Re-Gendering event set to begin at midnight tonight…” one of the reports said, though I didn’t really care to stop and listen. I had dinner to get, after all. I bundled up as best I could against the deepening chill of the autumn night, and hurried past the shops.

A few more blocks and I could see the comforting blue neon glow of the sign for ‘Jenny’s Java Joint’. This place always tosses the best bar food. It wasn’t until I found a legit full meal in a take-away container that I considered someone inside might actually be feeding me on purpose. I wasn’t going to complain though. The food is great and if I don’t have to pick hair or glass out of it, all the better!

I lifted the lid of the bin to find another styrofoam take-away box, barely hidden under some other trash. I pulled it out and popped the container open. A burger and fries - cold, of course, but it’s not like I was complaining. Most things I ate were cold, or slightly moldy, or worse. I plopped down on the ground in the alleyway and started eating, spotting a pair of eyes watching me from the back window of the net café.

I smiled at the sleek black cat. “Hey, Gigs.” I chuckled. I’d gotten to see her close up one day last summer when she got out. Her collar had a tag that said ‘Gigabyte’ in a fancy computery font. The owner of the shop came out for her a few minutes later, and found me petting the cat. I must have looked pretty good that day because she didn’t even comment or ask if I was homeless or anything. She just thanked me for catching “gigs” and offered me a drink. I declined - usually people offering homeless kids stuff just wanna get them sat still for long enough to bring in CPS or something. I wasn’t interested in going to an orphanage.

Still, we talked a little bit - she asked my name so she could thank me properly. I told her. She told me hers too. Jennifer, or Jen/Jenny as she preferred - obviously by the name of her net café. I liked her. She seemed nice in that ‘cool mom’ kind of way you always hear about but never really see. Well, I never really did, at least.

Gigs meowed in the window, her tail swishing back and forth slowly. Past her head I could see the big digital clock on the wall, which displayed ‘23:58 System Time’, and then underneath a smaller ‘11:58pm’ for anyone that couldn’t convert from 24hr format properly.

“You’ve got it made, Gigs. Wish I could just be a pretty kitty like you, relaxing inside a cool café and getting spoiled all day.” I grinned and brushed a finger across the window. She followed it and pressed her head against the glass as if trying to reach my hand. 

“Guess I’d better find a place to sleep, huh?” I asked the cat, as if she could respond. I made a point not to sleep near anywhere that I ate. That was a good way to get unwanted attention on a spot and end up burning it for a while. I made that mistake early on and nearly got collared by CPS after a week of sleeping behind an italian restaurant uptown.

I stood up and stretched, tossing my now empty food container back into the dumpster - No point in leaving a mess after Jenny’s had been nice enough to feed me again. I glanced in the window at Gigs one last time to bid her farewell, and saw the clock flip over to 00:01. I swayed on my feet, and the world seemed to spin.

“Wh… What’s…?” was all I could get out before my body dropped. I vaguely felt myself fall across something, and heard the clattering of my day’s worth of gathered bottles and cans spilling from the bag hooked to my backpack. It sounded like it was a hundred miles away and getting further.

‘This is it…’ I thought, ‘I finally messed up and ate something I shouldn’t have and now I’m totally dying… This sucks…’ It was pretty pathetic as ‘final words’ go, but I hoped they would suffice. After that there was only darkness, and the soft warmth of slipping away...