I think I talked to a drug addict today.
I'm not kidding. Nor am I trying to be judgmental.
He was across the alley from my front door, leaned up against a garage door, waiting. Now, I am not trying to assume, but I will say that over Christmas break Joe and I saw two similar looking guys leaning against the same garage door, and we also saw them get picked up by an SUV and then dropped off again around the corner. (We were leaving the house to go downtown, so we basically followed the car.) I also live in a sketchy alley in a city known for its immense drug problem.
Want to know what we talked about?
I was walking Jane Austen in the snow (we got about 4" today I'd say), and we were returning home. He said, "The snow is almost too high for her!" And I laughed and said, "I know, she's just sinking in!" Jane started barking at him, and I said, "I'm sorry, she's new." And he said, "Oh, it's okay." And I smiled at him, and then I took Janie inside.
And the minute I shut the door, I wondered -- what if I was the only nice person he talked to today? Or the last nice person he'd talk to?
Not that I was even that nice. I just chatted. But I am so worried about him now. He seemed so nice. He cared about Jane Austen, and he reached out.
I'm so worried that right now he's alone, or high, or unconscious, or cold.
This post has no point really. No solution. No suggestions.
Just a note that I talked to an addict today. And he was really nice to me and and Jane.
And I hope God takes care of my new friend tonight.
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