He turned away and stood with an empty cup in his hand again. He didn’t bother saying anything, just stood in places where people might drop change, his back straight, the bag with his clothes tucked under one arm. He kept Lucky close, one hand resting on the dog’s back. The hours passed. Nobody stopped. Nobody even slowed.
A man in a hoodie passed him twice. On the third pass, he muttered, “Get a job,” without looking at him. Joshua didn’t react. He didn’t have the energy. Outside a convenience store, someone flicked a coin near his feet. It bounced, rolled under a bench. He didn’t chase it.