John Doe, and you are out panhandling.

You sat on the filthy sidewalk, gripping your cardboard sign in one hand and an old coffee mug in the other, hoping that someone with some compassion would contribute to your wellbeing. Spare change, food, cigarettes, you weren't picky, literally anything would help.

A gust of wind, cold and sharper than a mugger's knife blew through the street, chilling you to the bone. As you huddled deeper in your coat, dread reared its ugly head. Your extended bout of homelessness had at least been tolerable in the warm months, but now it was mid-October and the nights were unbearable. With Winter on its way, your life, already miserable, promised to become a complete and utter Hell.

You closed your eyes, and let out a long, frustrated sigh, quietly fuming. Mostly at yourself and the choices that lead you to this point. Wasted education, bridges burned, and other poor decisions that compounded into complete fuckup-ery. And you were only 21, for heaven's sake.

"Are you okay, sir?"

You were snapped from your revery. Standing above you was a young black woman, probably in her late 20s if you thought about it. She had a nice face and long flowing hair done in a pony-tail. This all seemed inconsequential though, as your attention was quickly drawn elsewhere. She was wearing a midriff bearing tank-top and athletic shorts, both of which were rather tight and generously showed of pronounced abs, shapely butt and long limber legs. Her skin had a sheen of sweat despite the 40 degree day, and it was obvious she had been jogging by the the pricey running shoes on her feet.

Now, you're not quite sure why you said what you said. Perhaps jealousy of her good fortune, being able to run around in the cold weather dressed like that, knowing she'd have a warm home to go back to after her run. Maybe you thought the stupidity of her asking the obviously homeless, scruffy, hungry beggar if he was okay made you want to respond in kind. Or you were just so sleep deprived and hangry you just spoke whatever was on your mind.

"Why the hell are you dressed like that?"

She recoiled, more confused than anything else. "Excuse me, sir?"

You pointed at her. "Look at that. It's not much above freezing and you're dressed like that? While sweating? What are you trying to do, make yourself sick?"

She looked down at her attire and then back at you. She didn't look mad, or even confused. More just...reflective? Maybe that wasn't the right word.

"So Should I go home and change?"

You made a dismissive gesture. "Sure. You do that. And bring me a nice winter coat while you're at it."

She nodded and gave a quick, almost military, "Yes sir," and jogged off.

After several moments, the total absurdity of the conversation you just had just sank in. You began to laugh joyless and cold. "Six months out here and I'm already going crazy." You started to shake, shivering in the cold, crying alongside your misery-steeped laughter.

Close to an hour later you had managed to scrounge up a few more dollars, and a couple of Kool brand smokes. Not terrible for the time spent. You started to consider moving your operation to a new location, when a voice called to you from a few yards away.

"Here's your coat sir. I hope it fits."