I was sitting in inline for the car wash, two cars before me, dusk falling, checking emails on my phone when a scruffy man walked up and said, “Excuse me.”

I reluctantly turned to look at him. I’d been at the gas station for an hour already, vacuuming and cleaning my car, and had already had two other guys ask me for stuff. One asked for money for a soda to go with his McDonalds, the other just straight up for cash. But the guy was right there, my window was open, so I turned and gave him a doubtful look.

“Excuse me for bothering you,” he said, “But are you from Miami?”

I admitted that I was.

“I’ve been in town for sixteen weeks. Got a job now at a mechanics, but I need some money for food. Get my paycheck next week, but until then I have to