While I Waited My Turn

I stand and wait my turn in line. It's noon, and the supermarket is crowded. In front of me, two pensioners are discussing what kind of pizza they will buy. Today they took pensions and decided to draw. They ask about the price of the boy behind the window. In front of them, an adult tramp or alcoholic, or both, orders. His torn tracksuits are dirty and smelly, his appearance is repulsive and disturbs the rest of the tail. I expect him to order a slice of pizza and bury it in his pockets for pennies. And he tells the saleswoman quite carelessly: "All the other pieces of the final pizza on the left. "It's as if he's the richest man on earth and pulls out a 20-lev banknote. Whole pizza What's the point of a poor tramp eating a whole pizza alone? And where did this ragged tramp find the money to buy it? There is hardly a family of this unfortunate man, maybe he will share it with other beggars like him? Did he find a lucky banknote on the street? Today is a happy day for him. Or has a good and happy person today felt generous and decided to share his joy with a miserable person? Today he is the richest man on earth and will not go to bed hungry and poor. He will not search his pockets and count his pennies under the pitiful and contemptuous glances of people sunk to the ground in shame of misery. Today he is proud, upright, like a normal person will order a pizza. Not a slice, but a whole pizza. He will not search his pockets and count his pennies under the pitiful and contemptuous glances of people sunk to the ground in shame of misery. Today he is proud, upright, like a normal person will order a pizza. Not a slice, but a whole pizza. He will not search his pockets and count his pennies under the pitiful and contemptuous glances of people sunk to the ground in shame of misery. Today he is proud, upright, like a normal person will order a pizza. Not a slice, but a whole pizza.