To the man outside of the U-District Trader Joe's at closing time last Thursday night:

I was at the front register having a tough time explaining to the cashier that I had less than $20 left on the cash side of my EBT card (food stamps and stipend), therefore was not able to use an ATM, and after three attempts at carefully articulating how the card worked, while the person in line behind me patiently sighed (as if it were my fault), I almost gave up in frustration. Perhaps you witnessed the incident, or maybe you heard me mutter to myself that I loved being poor. In either case, when I went out with my groceries, I was grabbing a copy of the latest Stranger when you came up to me and slipped me a $20, saying, "It looks like you need this more than me." I was momentarily stunned, and my first reaction was to tell you I couldn't accept it. Instead, I practiced on my issues with accepting or asking for help and just said, thank you so much. And I meant it.

That sort of kindness, the simple gesture, made my eyes well up because I was very grateful and very touched. I am struggling right now, I would rather be working, and you lifted my spirits and restored my ever-ebbing faith in mankind. You get what you give, what goes around comes around—I wish you much good karma, if you believe in that sort of thing.