A Short Story : A Story?

Decent Essays
He stood in scrappy clothing, battered and dirty, holding a large wad of crisp green paper in his dirt stained hand. He stared at the money in his hand, then slowly raised his gaze to the garbage filled alley before him; deserted except for one other man. He was impossibly tall; dressed in a crisp three piece suit with polished black leather shoes. The sound of his shoes clicking on the garbage stained pavement was steady like the sound of the rain. There was no doubt about it- it was the man from earlier that day. Ezra stood frozen with indecision. Should he keep the money? Should he return it? He knew he had to make a choice. Turning, he fled down the street into the empty night sky. Ezra was small for his age. He'd always been scrawny and skinny, like most of the others who lived on the streets of Los Angeles. His limp light brown hair was so dirty, filled with soot and ash, you could hardly make out its original color. Still, he had it better than most of the homeless who lived around him. After all, he had a job. Picking up decaying trash left wasn't glorious. It barely paid enough for food; but it was better than nothing. Rising slowly, he unfurled from his cocoon of blankets. The air was icy, and It cut through his clothes. He yanked his floppy beige shoes onto his feet; headed towards another day of hard work. Creeping past his mother, he did his best not to wake her. Glancing down, he grimaced as he saw her, her eyes and lips were puffy and swollen, and
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