Good Samaritan


I’m pushing my daughter in her stroller while talking on the phone. A woman calls out to me. “Señor!”

Obviously she couldn’t be talking to me, but for some reason I turn around anyway. She’s about fifty and five foot flat walking out of an apartment also on the telephone.  “Señor, can you help me out?”


“Yes, can you help me?”

I figured she wanted me to lift something. “I’ve got my daughter here.”

“That’s OK. You speak Spanish?”


“That’s OK. Look inside the apartment. Is it messy?”

I tell my friend on the phone to hold on for a second. It’s a studio apartment she wants me to look at. It’s cluttered. I tell her, “It’s not that bad.”

“Look inside the sink.” she tells me.

There are some dirty dishes piled up in there. “It’s sloppy.”

She talks into the telephone. “It’s sloppy. I take a man off the street and he says for himself, it’s sloppy. Thank you.” she tells me and sends me on my way.


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