The man is tall, dark, and must have been handsome before living on the streets wore away the pretty. His grizzled hair bursts away from his head like springs escaping pressure. The blanket wrapped round his shoulders is so dirty you can't tell what color it is...or was.
Facing a storefront, the man shouts, "Why you gotta do me like that? Didn't I promise I'd always watch out for you? Didn't I? But you...you running. Always running. Why you always gotta be running?"
As I pass the windows, I see through the man's reflection to a display of $5,000 watches. Running.