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Factoring in the biting wind,I knew the temperature was below zero.The bitter cold
cut through my Califorian sensibilities,as well as my enthusiasm as a tourist,so I
moved to the nearest door for warmth....and found myself in a station.
I settled onto one of the public benches with a steaming cup of coffee-waiting for
feeling to retum to my fingers and toes-and relaxed to watch the people around.
Several tables of diners spilled out into the great hall from the American Restaurant,
and smells of the food caused me to consider an early dinner.I observed a man seated
nearby and,from the longing in his eyes,realized that he,too,noticed the tasty food.
His skinny body,chapped (hands and shabby clothes nearly shouted,
Homeless,homeless!”
I wondered how long it had been since he last ate.
Half expecting him to approach me for a handout(施舍物),I almost welcomed such a
request.He never did.The longer I took in the scene,the crueler his situation seemed.
My head and heart experienced a silent war,one telling me to mind my own business,
and the other urging a trip to the food court on his behalf.
While my internal debate went on,a well-dressed young couple approached him.
"Excuse me,sir,"the husband began."My wife and I just finished eating,and our
appetites weren't as big as we thought.We hate to waste good food.Can you help us
out and put this to use?"He extended a large container.
“God bless you both,”came the grateful reply.
Pleased,yet upset by my own lack of action,I continued to watch.The man
rearranged the soup crackers,inspected the sandwich and stirred the salad dressing.
Then,slowly he lifted the soup lid,cupping his hands around the steaming bowl.At
last,he unwrapped the plastic spoon,filled it to overflowing,lifted it toward his
mouth and,all of a sudden,stopped short.
I tumed my head to follow his narrow-eyed gaze.
Para 1:Entering the hall and walking slowly in our direction was an old man.
Para 2:He placed the still-warm bowl of soup in the old man