Revision of "On Compassion"

Everyone is so happy. Families walking together;  They've all got bags and bags filled with toys and clothes... and food.  I'd kill to just have one loaf of bread and a warm cup of coffee.  Actually, I wanna just have someone to talk to.  Just a simple conversation.  To feel like someone cares about me.  I wonder if someone here would talk to me; Maybe that woman waiting at the stoplight with the baby.  She looks nice enough.  Well, at least someone that wouldn't run away from me.  At least she's not avoiding eye contact with me like everyone else.  I walk closer to her and realize she seems more tense.  Like she has to protect her baby from me.  I want to tell her I don't want to hurt them.  All I want is a friend.  Or someone to say hi to.  The light is going to change soon, and I don't wanna lose my chance, so my steps quicken.  She glances at me, tightens her grip on her child's stroller, and looks me up and down-- at my torn shirt, and pants too big.  It's only because I can't possibly get better clothes.  Any money I get goes towards food-- otherwise I'll starve.  Now, the woman's movement catches my eye.  She's reaching into her purse.  A few moments later, she pulls out a dollar, and holds it out at arms length.  There's fear in her eye.  But somehow this fear is half masked with compassion.  I stare at her for a while, not knowing what to do.  I want to say something; That I don't need the money.  But, I do.  Otherwise, I won't eat today.  I stretch out my arm and grasp the dollar, but I don't pull it back.  I can feel my lips curling into a slight smile, and see some of the fear disappear from her expression.  Now, I take it and lower my head.  My only choice, now, is to walk away.  Another person's charity case.  Always a charity case, never a friend.