I Met Jerome

Last night I met Jerome.

I had some beers at Slims Downtown with one good friend Patrick Downing.  We talked about life, music, sports, theology, relationships.  Then we left.  I parked next to the bus station.  Don't park next to the bus station.  That is don't park next to the bus station if you don't want to meet Jerome, a tall man in painters jeans and a poofy jacket that asked me for cash to buy a meal two blocks away at the "local kitchen."  I didn't have much money, but I said I'd give him ride there.  Jerome didn't want a ride.  He wanted cash.  But he obliged.

Last night Jerome and I prayed in my car.  I didn't ask Jerome to pray, Jerome grabbed my hands and started praying.  Thanking me for various things.  Thanking God for various things.  He blessed me for my kindness.  I drove Jerome to Cookout.  He didn't want me to drop him at Cookout, but across the street.  I told Jerome I had gotten him to Cookout.  But I wanted to buy him a meal.

Jerome wanted some money.  He didn't like that idea.  He didn't think I trusted him.  I gave Jerome my last five dollar bill and told him I loved him.  I watched Jerome cross the street.  I watched Jerome sit down and stare at the menu at Cookout.  And I watched Jerome walk away.

Last night I met Jerome.

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