People from my yesterday

"Yo hungrey?" Her brow furrowed as she looked at me, tears building in her eyes. "Oh, yo poor thang! They make yo work thet hard?"
I nodded, "I have to work for my food around here... I haven't done enough yet, tonight, so it will be a bit before I can eat."
"Oh, poor thang! Here, ya take these offa me, I gonna make yo something. Where's my kitchen?"
She was difficult to understand; her tongue had grown thick in her mouth. I leaned in to understand.
She was going to cook me up a grand feast of chicken wings -if I would ever let her go.
I didn't. And before we arrived at the hospital, she had forgotten about her whole scheme to save the poor intern from starvation. Now all she could think of was this dreadful cough that she had just discovered as we rolled through the ER door.

Her eyes were blue, pale, gray blue; one was clouded over, the pupil barely visible. It reminded me of the old scraggly dogs that I checked into the veterinary office, the summer I was a vet's assistant. But she was adorable.
"I didn't like you. But now I do. You all have been so nice. I like you." She looked up, sunshine flowing from her face. I smiled, she smiled, and the sun brightened.
She hadn't been able to catch her breath. It hurt to draw in air. It hurt worse not to. She was in her nineties and scared.
But my super-man like partners easily lifted her from her wheelchair to the cot, and she felt young again. And she liked us. And she could breath again.

His hair whipped around, eyes wide, eyes wild, as he jumped from the sound of my voice. I didn't know I was that electrifying. A blossoming red rose was tattooed on his forehead. Sections of it disappeared, in his concentration on what I was saying to him. His eyebrows were thin, black and hairless, and marked with the same permanency as his black eyeliner.
"Sir, tell me, do you always drive your van on the railroad tracks at night?" His hair whipped back around as those eyes found my partner.
Outside the ambulance, the blinking, screeching lights of the police and ambulance melded with the officers' sweeping flashlights and the occasional green flood light, into one mind-mixing scene.
He was under arrest. Not for driving on the railroad tracks. Not for crashing his car into one the buildings. Not for drinking. Not for drugs.
Long ignored child support had caught him. Caught him, on the side of the tracks, the side that he shouldn't have been on.
His eyes pleaded with me, as he stepped out of the ambulance. He was hungry and thirsty, hurt and confused. And I watched him go.