In which I relate a touching, romantic story involving two panhandlers

The first comes by, strung-out skinny white guy with a face like a beaker. Then a few minutes later, a beautiful girl with burgundy hair, a delicate nose ring, and tacky earrings. Of course their stories didn't jive, but what are the odds they aren't together? All I can think is, "Oh honey. You could do better. Stop pretending to cry and ripping holes in your fishnets. You could make plenty of money without lying to strangers; you could keep that money for yourself. If you wanted to."