The panhandler on the corner was well-disguised. His tanned and leathery face featured an uncombed, four-inch, beard of brown and gray. The front of his plaid cowboy shirt featured pearl snap buttons, but one pocket was half ripped off, and food stains darkened the area below his beard. A dirty gray shoe lace held his long stringy hair off his face. His jeans had stiff areas around the knees that stuck up as he leaned against the wall of the Dunkin’ Donuts with the used coffee cup raised to passersby. “Sparnge?” He seemed to have lost his ability to speak coherently. Something in his careful appraising gaze suggested otherwise.
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