Rock Bottom

‘I copied those beggars I saw on TV,’ Kira said. ‘I wrote my story on a placard and sat on the curb outside a park. I even got a bowl, you know, the oval-shaped, chipped kind, like an alms bowl. Some dropped me their spare change. Some called me a liar. The worst part was, someone called the cops on me. Did you know that begging is illegal? I didn’t.’ Austyn nodded. The city of Stamford had an ordinance against vagrancy. Panhandlers would be hauled away by social welfare officers. Repeated offenders would be fined or jailed for up to two years. ‘Luckily, the lady officer took pity on me. Instead of arresting me, she just confiscated my bowl and asked me to go home. She even gave me the numbers for a couple of charities.’ Kira had tried those numbers. The staff on the other end of the line were sympathetic, but once they learned about her father’s coma and the doctors’ pessimistic prognosis, they hemmed and hawed and gave her the runaround. Kira could understand why. Charities were ofte