The sun is long gone, and the bright colors of sunset are fading into ash and slate and soft violet.

There's a man sitting wrapped in a threadbare blanket, in the shelter of a piece of construction scaffolding. A scrap of cardboard propped in front of him reads, in straggling childish capital letters:

BE YE KIND TO THE STRANGER IN THY MIDST; FOR YE WERE STRANGERS IN THE LAND OF EGYPT
ANY FOOD OR CHANGE YOU CAN SPARE
GOD BLESS

His dull stare focuses abruptly as she approaches.