Some days there is a one-armed man with a bicycle in the drugstore parking lot. When he sees me, he walks over, pushing his bike. I’ve never seen him ride it. We talk for few minutes about sports, the weather and whatnot. One day I gave him a dollar and a man in a van saw me, slowed almost to a stop where we stood and said, for all to hear, “Tell him to get a job!” He sped off. The man with the bicycle was a mason’s assistant. Maybe the man in the van knows where there’s work.