It's Back! Wordsmith's Challenge

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We have liftoff! The newest Wordsmith's Challenge is now online, and all systems are go.
The picture:

The Rulez:
1) All entries must be 500 words or less. NO KIDDING!
2) All entries must be relevant to the challenge provided. Be creative, but stay on topic. Try not to repeat themes or styles within your writing.
3) Spelling and punctuation are important, except where rule departures are used for effect.
4) Entries must be submitted by the deadline given. You may submit your piece by providing a link in the comments section of the monthly challenge.
5) You should be willing to read the other entries and comment in a constructive fashion, pointing out high and low points of the piece in workshop fashion. Feedback from other writers is half the point of Wordsmiths Unlimited, and as a participating writer you're expected to critique the other submitted works.

And since I already knew Tiff was gonna use this photo, I got a head start. So to keep things fair, I'm negating my handicap by posting way early.

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My Offering

She cocked her head to the left, sizing up the man sitting at the opposite end of the patio. The familiar hollowed cheeks, battered baseball cap, layers of jeans and tee shirts probably representing his entire wardrobe. Most familiar of all were the vacant, haunted eyes, red-rimmed with the whites striking sharp contrast to the ashy, coffee colored skin around them.
"Getting late, huh?"
He started slightly. Casual conversation wasn't something he was accustomed to.
"I got no place to be." he answered, avoiding her eyes.
"No place to be meaning no place to go." she mused. Then: "So I guess if you have no place to be, this is as good a place as any, right?"
He paused for several moments, deciding if he was more curious or annoyed at her intrusion into his private world. Practicality and curiosity won out.
"Reckon so. Sometimes if I hang out until they close, they gimme sump'n to eat."
"When's the last time you ate?"
Annoyance was creeping back into the picture, but the girl seemed genuine enough.
"Sometime yessaday I think, ma'am."
"You think? You don't know when you ate last?"
"Not ezzackly, ma'am, no."
"Well come on, I'll get you a sandwich at least."
"Aw, naw, thass alright ma'am. They'll close in a hour or so an' I'll get sump'n then."
"Oh don't be stubborn about it."
He started to protest, but she was already out of her chair. She emerged a few minutes later carrying a fully loaded sandwich and ludicrously sized paper cup. She set it in front of him, then took the seat opposite him.
She chatted idly as he attacked the meal with the subtlety of a ravenous pit bull.
"Guess I's hungrier'n I thought", he drawled, "Ma'am, but I got to axe you..."
"Why?" she finished for him.
"Yeah, I mean, yes ma'am. Mos' folks... how come you did all this?"
"Karma", she smiled.
She suppressed the amusement she felt in watching him try to fit "karma" into his lexicon.
"Ma'am, I don' know what that is, but I'm mighty grateful. Can I do sump'n to pay you back for it?"
She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully for a moment, then as if reaching a decision she responded, "Well my car's down the block and it's kind of late. So if you'd walk with me we'll call it even."
"Awright. Sho'. I can do that, no problem."
It was half the length of the block before he felt the world begin to tilt. His knees refused to support him any longer, and he sank to the cracked paving stones slack jawed in surprise. The GHB numbed him to a point that he never felt the sharp steel that punched into his left lung, or the Nike clad foot that rolled him onto his back. But as the edges of his vision blurred, he saw the yellow halo of her hair framing a twisted mask of fury and loathing hissing, "How do you like it motherfucker??".

  is a monthly writing challenge hosted by Tiff and Kingfisher.

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