A pack of cigarettes I didn’t have before I bought them, and the equivalent of what, a few bucks? And a lighter, and my leftovers. A handshake, a short conversation, well-wishes and congratulations. That’s all I had to give three bums outside of the train station. See you never—I hope you rest like what rest we’ve never rested yet, I hope you sup from the deepest pool of hopeless sorrow. Then we will know each other—we who us won’t us see tomorrow.