Shawn
It was a few minutes before 10pm on a fall Saturday night on the west side of Chicago. I just met up with a friend from Ohio for a drink at a fantastic Irish sports bar. I was walking back to my car, parked a few blocks away, to head to a friend's 33rd birthday party when I passed a man who was a bit unkempt on the street. He asked me if I could spare some change; unfortunately, I had no cash. He then asked for one of the alcoholic beverages I had just bought, and I told him, "I'm sorry, I'm on my way to a party." As soon as I walked past him, I felt terrible. I was in a hurry, a couple hours late for the party, but that was no reason not to give him time. I got to my car and ventured in the direction he was walking. I saw him, found a spot, and hopped out of my car to talk to him. I introduced myself, and I asked his name. I do that every time I meet someone on the street. He told me his name was Shawn. I remember the spelling because my brothers name i