Authors Note: This is one of my Journal entries that I decided to post on my blog.

Standing outside, under a bus stop shelter during a thunderstorm…

A strange hobo approaches me with a crazed look on his face. I smelt some horrible odor from his body. And for a split second I felt sorry for him. The look in his eyes, so strong and weary made me shed a tear. As if he had no life left of him, he held out his filthy can and asked for money. I reached into my purse and as I was doing so, he bolted towards me and reached for it. He stole it and sprinted away. The man was fast, but I was faster. I tackled him, grabbed my purse, a hurried towards the bus I was waiting for. I took a seat in the back and looked out my window. On the bumper of the bus was the hobo, hitching a ride for free. All of the sudden, the bus hit a pot hole, and flung the man off of vehicle. I gasped, and realized that the man, the homeless, hopeless, odor some man was dead as a door nail. If only I would have given him my purse...