Necessary Measures

12 months ago

George had a secret.

He was cold. As one was sleeping on the sidewalk all night. He yawned, waking up to the sound of pedestrians around him. His back was worse than yesterday, and his stomach was rumbling. Just another day of being homeless.

Some of the many passers-by dropped some change into his little cardboard box. George checked and saw he had just enough for breakfast. Praise the lord. He wouldn't be hungry this morning.

As he was getting his things inside his backpack, intrusive thoughts started creeping into his psyche. He did not let them. He must not let him. It was imperative to focus on the here and now. His situation was what it was for a reason, he must never forget that.

He had to move from this corner. The bakery across the street threatened to call the cops on him yesterday, and such attention would be most unwanted. Best to clear out and find a different vantage point.

As George stood in front of the sandwich shop, he got a whiff of his own scent - and grimaced. When was the last time he had a bath? He couldn't remember. Nor could he feel ashamed.

He got his sandwich which he ate with gusto. After, he lay down on the other side of the block he was at earlier. He preserved his strength in reserves. Appearing weaker than he was. A necessary measure as he unpacked his things on the pavement.

As before, apartment building thirteen was in view. It had to be. Why? That was none of anyone's concern, least of all George. But this current spot was perfect for what George intended. Even more so than the one from across the bakery. So he sat on his bag, his box of charity before him, watching the sun move slowly in the clear blue sky.

He started thinking about whether he would have another meal today. Such thoughts of luxury. He smiled at that. George was happy he had breakfast, which was more than -

A man in a briefcase got out from apartment building thirteen. He moved straight for where George was situated.

"Some change, for an old veteran," George said in a raspy voice.

The man looked down with disgust. But his mouth quivered for a moment. "Sure, buddy."

The man in the briefcase went for his wallet, and George went for his throat. A shank he was hiding in his sleeve was at the man's throat. It was inconspicuous. Anyone who saw them would think George was just giving the man a hug. But they both knew what just happened.

"Should have never left your little hole, rat," George whispered.

"If I scream..." The man started.

"If you scream," The shank nipped the neck, "you die."

"And so does your cause."

"You wanna stake your life on that assumption?" George could feel the gulp in the man's neck. "Let's go, 'buddy'."

Both men understood what would happen if a chase would ensue. They entered the nearby bakery. Luckily it was empty. The cashier, however, frowned.

"Didn't I tell you to get off the street? I warned you. I'm calling the cops!"

"Call the manager instead," George said.

"Like I would waste his time with -"

"It's ok, Carl!" The manager suddenly appeared from a backdoor. "I'll take care of this personally."

The cashier looked confused but offered no rebuddle. George, the man with the briefcase, and the manager entered the small office at the back of the bakery. The manager made sure to lock the door and put down the window's shutters before sitting behind his desk.

The man with the briefcase sighed. "What now?"

"Now," the manager got out a stack of documents. "Now you will sign all of these. Or Miguel over here will start breaking your fingers one by one."

"You think I care about my fingers?"

"You think it will end with your fingers?"

"Even if it ended with my life, I will never sign."

"I thought you'd say that." The manager revealed a stack of photos. "You see, 'George' here posed as a very good hobo. None of your men suspected him as they entered and left your building." He pointed to various photos. "None of the... women as well."

The man with the briefcase bit his lip so hard blood spilled. "You are sick," he said.

"To put your entire cause in jeopardy because of... what? Indulgences?"

George, or rather, Miguel scoffed. "I sacrificed a year of my life on those streets. You endangered your people needlessly for... for what?"

"Taking the moral high ground, eh?" The man said, but he grabbed the pen.

Everyone had a secret.