ON MY RIDE I OVERHEARD THIS: If you die, I'll go through your pockets.
How do you get to that point in your life, living on the streets, undernourished and suffering in the cold, surrounded by your "friends", who's best idea is a statement like that?
Three grown men... who were once someone's little boys.
Two trying to console a one, clearly struggling.
All doing their best to survive.
Am I any different?