I'm out sweeping up oak leaves, breathing the pollen dust and feeling irritated because the trees have been dropping it down heavy like this for weeks, and it seems like it's never going to end. Then this dirty looking guy with a backpack shows up with a waft of stale air. He says, "Can I buy some toilet paper from you."

I don't even look up, just mutter, "I don't have any."

He continues up the road, and I continue sweeping the damn leaves. Then I think, Now that's just plain stupid. What do you mean, you don't have any toilet paper? Of course, you have toilet paper. Everybody has toilet paper.

Then, I think, if I'd given him some, I'd probably find it up on our running trails later. Little piles of it here, little piles of it there.

I keep sweeping, but then I feel bad. Every person needs toilet paper. I mean, it's a basic necessity of life, isn't it? How can you blame a person for being dirty and smelling bad, if they have no way to clean themselves. It's not right.

I can't stand thinking about how mean I've been. How uncaring. I drop the broom and race into the house and grab a big brand new roll of toilet paper and race up the road waving it in the air.

By then he's about a quarter mile away, and I'm not sure I can catch him. I keep running, and when I get within thirty feet of him or so, I have to stop to catch my breath. I wait for the noise of a car to pass and yell, "Hey!"

When he looks back, I wave the toilet paper in the air.

We walk toward each other, and as I hand him the toilet paper, our eyes meet for just a second.

He looks at the ground and says, "Thank you."

We go our separate ways, and when I glance back a few minutes later, I see he's heading for a garbage container on the other side of the street. I think, Oh man, is he going to throw it away? He pulls off the top layers of toilet paper and throws it in the trash. Then he puts the roll in his backpack and continues on.

Oh, right. I understand that. He thinks my hands are dirty.