Start Fiction:
The man's shoes dragged across the cement as he walked across the pedestrian mall towards several college boys enjoying their lunch in the afternoon sun. He watched them as they conversed, as he moved closer and closer, inch by inch. As far as local vagrants go, he was rather fresh in his appearance: clean clothes, bathed, shaven and his hair had a nice bounce to it. About five feet away, he began to drag his feet more; I was beginning to think is was part of a performance.
I watched him, studied him as appraoched the three young men as they were finishing their lunch. He shuffled his feet in stead of stepping, bobbed his head forward and backward, raised his left arm as though he wanted to shake hands while his right arm hang limp at his side. He walked, shuffled up to the most clean cut, well dressed of the three young men. Although I couldn't make out his exact words, I learned his name was Jimmy as he addressed the young man in a calm and steady tone.
He didn't speak long, but spoke volumes with his body his hand fluttered around while he swayed and continued to bob at the same time. The young man looked at this friends as they all stood up, reached in his pocket and produced some cash and handed it to the man. As the young men walked away, I watched Jimmy stand up straight, raise his right arm to unfold the bill he had received and he began to walk completely normal.
The show was over for the moment, but I could tell as soon as he put the cash in his pocket, he was searching for his next target. This man was a definite professional.
End Fiction.
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