He has not slept in days. He does not see the homeless woman leaning against the coffeeshop wall until it is too late to react. She is on her feet, grabbing the lapels of his shirt. Her face is sunburned brown and long locks of her matted black hair whip into his face.
"A blessing, preacherman," she hisses. Her blue eyes are oddly clear.
The response rises without thought. "What do you seek, daughter?" croaks a voice from some place in his throat.
She mouths something that he cannot hear. There is a faint ringing in his ears, growing louder. Get a grip, he mutters to himself. He pries her hands away gently, removes them from his shirt. "I'm sorry," he says to her. "I don't do that any more. I can't help you."
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Who's the guy? Is he homeless too? How'd he get that way?
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