Red Gems

Red Gems A middle-aged man in an old wheelchair moves slowly and with determination. On a crowded street filled with happy tourists’ feet his arms look as if they’d finished an Olympic race. Since he has no legs, he cradles his wares between lap and chest. Today he sells tiny bracelets and anklets. I pass him gingerly, bearing an awkward smile. A half-block down, my conscience stops me. I return to him crouch down to meet him pick out an anklet hand him 40 pesos his eyes glisten. Why didn’t I ask his name? Weeks later, this anklet still adorns my smooth white skin. I so love these plastic, shiny ruby-red gems held together by tough black string.