CHARLIE KNOWS

When Charlie walks to the liquor store it's with long strides, and slow. His reflection dances from shop windows.
Many people hustle past him, not knowing who he is, which is okay with Charlie. He doesn't know who they are either.
When he gets to a corner he doesn't wait for traffic or look both ways; he just crosses. Car horns mingle with shouts and slamming brakes. Charlie grins and continues walking. He knows his stride is bulletproof.
He knows other things, too.
He knows that good people he's never met are very hungry, and that it's not his fault.
He knows that approaching clouds could mean rain, or hail, or tornadoes, or could just be clouds.
He knows that in every country, knives are flashing from pockets for both good and bad reasons.
When Charlie gets down the street to the liquor store he stoops to watch a pigeon bob across the pavement.
Charlie knows the pigeon could be God, or could just be a pigeon.
Charlie rises and slides into the store.
Charlie knows why he drinks.