two cents

She sat behind a scribbled cardboard sign,

chin in her hands,

eyes reflecting the cloudy sky,

watching the passersby,

wondering why no one stopped to talk to her.

Couldn’t they read the sign?

She looked down at the letters,

tall and a bit jiggled, here and there,

but legible,

no?

She tried writing them out again,

on the other side,

slower,

holding her hand very carefully steady,

her marker following her movements.

There.

She turned the sign around.

Still, no one stopped.

Some smiled at her,

A few threw her coins without hardly looking,

but most just walked by,

eyes down,

shoulders hunched,

stressed thoughts buzzing around behind their eyes,

colouring their steps.

She sighed and looked down at her sign,

once more.

She knew everyone was looking for what she offered,

but perhaps they were too shy to ask.

Or maybe they just didn’t trust her.

She wasn’t the most qualified for the job,

she was the first to admit it.

She picked up the sign and wandered off.

It started to rain,

and under her arm,

the letters smudged:

TiPs on bEing HumAn

2 cEnTs