Excerpt from the story:

Do you remember the first time we went? Yup I was there, quietly minding your safety, just in case. After all, he was a stranger and there was no telling what might happen. It didn’t take more than five seconds to realize your benevolent mission of mercy was not going to be welcomed with smiling gratitude.

An angry, dishevelled, rail-thin man of indiscernible age answered the door in his boxer shorts smelling like a brewery. He took one look at the proffered tray of food in your trembling hands and asked if there was any wine with dinner. When you said no, he slammed the door in your face yelling, “I don’t need your charity, Bitch!”

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