I’d give shit to someone who looks like me, she thought. Can’t even get as mad at those bitches as I want to.

What even was the point? Living in this fucking flaming cum dumpster of a town. She walked by the detritus and piled up clothing that looked like a homeless person’s camp, and she hated that she lived here. Hated that this was the way the streets fucking looked.

She horked a loogie and spat, placing the spit close to the pile of shit.

The clothes moved. Startling, she backed off, moving away at doubletime to avoid any incident.

There was a man at another collection of homeless stuff, half a block down, wearing army camo and a colorful shirt with Mouse Protector on it. He had a thick beard and stood with his mouth open, making it apparent he was missing a couple of teeth.

“That ain’t right,” he drawled, as she walked down the other side of the road. “Spitting on someone.”

“Spit near, not on.”

“Ain’t right.”

“Ain’t right to lecture someone about something you didn’t see right.”

“I think you should go back. Apologize. She’s up.”

Lauren looked back. There was a girl, maybe two years older than her, who was sitting up, looking.

“Leave me alone, man. I’m having a shitty night.”

“That makes it more important to make things right. Most people who do shitty things are having shitty times of it.”

“Yeah. Right, got it,” Lauren said, shrugging. She started to walk past him, heading down the street. “You sure have it all figured out.”

“You think you’re better than me?” he asked, behind her.

“Kinda do, no offense.”

“From where I stand, you’re a little shit-smear on society who spits on those she thinks are lower than her.”

From where he stood.

He was closer. Approaching her. And as he got closer, she could see that he was actually kind of buff. His sleeves were tight around biceps and forearms. Had he actually been in the army, wearing that camo?

“I spat near her, didn’t even see her. Okay? So back off.”

She could smell him. Unwashed, gross.

Further down the street, someone hopped to his feet as he saw them. A homeless girl, roughly her own age.

The girl got in Lauren’s way. She hesitated, then turned. A passing car kept her from crossing the street.

“Problem, Paul?”

“Wanted her to apologize to Yasmine. Yas has been having a tough time of it. She’d appreciate a human moment.”

“Look, just let me go. You can’t legally do this shit,” Lauren protested.

“Paul looks after those of us who aren’t really good at defending ourselves,” Yasmine said, indicating what might have been a prosthetic leg. “Think of him like a bouncer, the street’s his club.”

“Street’s for everyone. Basic human right or something.”