Hours passed, and finally, I was given permission to speak. The raven-haired man spoke to me.

"What's your name?"

"It's Miguel, si- mister."

"Miguel Cordero? Son of the shoemaker Pablo Cordero?" he asked. I nodded.

"Your father is a pathetic human being, Miguel. But I pity him, in a way."

"In what way?" I asked.

"Well, if it wasn't obvious, I live in poverty, too. But your father... why, he must be one of the most poor men in the city. It's baffling. He went from being a well-respected middle class man to a starving, beaten, poor dog. And all in a matter of years, too. Also, I didn't give you permission to speak that time, but I'll let it slide. Oh, yeah, forgot to tell you my name. The name's Tulio. Last name is irrelevant." I nodded once more.

"There's something I need you to do, Miguel... clean up my shelter while I earn back my money. And don't break anything." He walked off. That night, Tulio returned. I had cleaned everything up as best as I could. Tulio seemed pleased with my work.

"Not bad, Miguel. I'm impressed. I'll tell you what, you have my permission to speak whenever you want. Just don't talk too much. Oh, and you still can't call me sir."

"Uh, okay," I said. "Well... why don't we get to know each other, then?"

Tulio groaned. "I knew this was going to happen."

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I don't like talking about my past. Besides, I barely even know you."

"I never asked you to tell me your life story, Tulio. I just want to know more about what interests you."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Well, I like to play dice, as you know. I also like going to bars and getting drunk. Eases my mind."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, that's all I'm going to tell you. Got a problem with that?"

"Well, no. But I do have a problem with your attitude. Why do you have to act like a jerk, Tulio?"

"Why? Why? Because I've been living like a rat since I was nine years old! Because everyone in this slum of a city treats me like garbage! And because I have to deal with people like you on a daily basis! My parents have been dead for years, and I had to take care of myself for all that time! At least you have parents! And at least your parents actually had a job, once! My parents never worked a single day in their lives! All they did was beg, borrow and steal. Almost everybody hated them. But you, you had things easy compared to me! You still have your parents, you still have a home!"

"So what, you think that's an excuse for your behavior? Well, let me tell you something; it really isn't. There are still people who care about you, Tulio. There's more to life than just gambling and getting wasted. Don't you see that?"

Tulio sighed. "Okay, so you're right. What I said doesn't excuse me being a jerk. But you don't understand what it feels like to be me. Before... before my parents died, I actually felt genuinely happy. When they were killed, it just... changed me. I'm an entirely different person now, Miguel. Maybe... maybe if they were still alive, I'd be a better person."

"You don't get it. You can still be a better person, everyone can."

Tulio chuckled. "You're such and optimist, you know that?"

"And what's wrong with optimism? I always try to look at the positive side of things. Maybe you should give it a try."

"Yeah, well, I'm a different person than you are. But I guess you're right about me changing. I really should stop acting so... mean."

"I'm glad you're starting to see my side of things, Tulio." Tulio nodded.

"Miguel... thank you."

"I... you're welcome, Tulio." He yawned.

"Well, good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll see you, too. Good night." Tulio went to bed, and I walked home.