Narrative about a homeless soldier.

Work For Food "Will work for food." The words were neatly written in black magic marker on a jagged piece of brown cardboard. A filthy man about forty-five held the sign. He wore a pair of dirty, blood stained military fatigues; a green t-shirt, tattered and frayed; a military issue jacket whose patches needed patched; and combat boots, worn with holes, allowing his dirt and sweat stained socks to peek through. He huddled over a …

…his wall, clutching his ragged cardboard sign. He had frozen to death. The city gave David a pauper's funeral. A small, milk-white, limestone headstone was all that was left of the life David had led. No one knew his name; he was just another bum who died on the streets. As a joke, they inscribed "Will Work For Food" onto his headstone. A young man, full of promise, sent to war; will work for food.