No One Gave Up

We all stood around and watched the bum try to hang himself. He was unremarkable—average bum height, average bum face—but was making a show of it. He sobbed loudly while tying newspapers together into a make-shift suicide; looped it around the head of a streetlamp and his own; stood shaking on a garbage can. The man to my right talked to himself: “No. No. No. They’re much too soggy for that. It won’t hold”. There was a brief sense of anticipated disappointment. The bum shouted: “Just know the world never fell on me. It was I who fell on the world!” He kicked the can from underneath and crashed into the pavement. The crowd surged forward, all apologies and pats-on-the-back. I heard a woman comfort him: “Are you ok for a second try? Maybe you should rest a while." Others attempted to re-tie the papers together. I felt sick. I reached into my wallet and left three dollars at the body: “For rope.”