Person

He sits sloth-like on the cold, cast iron bench across the busy Main Street. I try not to look as he picks his nose and his teeth, usually in that order. He pulls at his beard with one hand as he chews the fingernails on the other, then spits them on the sidewalk. Sometimes, he catches me watching him through my office window, he stands and tips his hat to show me his fine manners as he turns to shuffle away.