One.

A little boy helps his parents collect cardboard boxes in a restaurant parking lot. It’s late, too late for the boy to be out on a school night. Looks like he’s around six or seven years old. First grade. Second grade.

Two.

A man shuffles along the sidewalk with his arms outstretched, showing passing drivers his handwritten sign. “Searching for Kindness.” His thick brown beard seems to weigh down his frail body. I stare at the sign. Should I open the window? Do I have change? Too late. Red to green. And I’m gone.

Three.

I walk along La Brea Avenue. Teenagers stand at the bus stop in front of the 99 Cent Store and ogle a yellow Lamborghini as it stops at the red light. The driver has freakishly long arms with Mr. Universe biceps.  I bend down, trying to see his face, but it’s hidden in shadow. Red to green. And he’s gone.