[ WP ] 3 Men living on welfare cheques

Art was late. Stu and Riley sat at their accustomed places around the picnic table, rubbing their hands and looking this way and that. The men were disturbed indeed, but did not need to share their concern verbally. This had been their routine every day for the past few years between April and October. Breakfast, park bench at ten, packed lunch at noon, walk around the park around two, home at three. Personal business was attended to in the morning. Family after park time. The park did not shun them, some of the birds even sang for their pieces of stale bread and defrosted kernels of corn. 
 
 Art appeared. He looked troubled as he approached the bench and sat. Stu noticed he did n't have a sandwich bag. 
 
 `` You're late Arty, old chap'' 
 `` Pardon lads, I was at the pawnbrokers getting an estimate'' 
 An emergency then. 
 `` Everything alright, Arty?'' 
 Art exhaled, closed his eyes and looked skywards, `` I have to sell it but my heart is just not in it.'' 
 
 Stu and Riley exchanged troubled glances. `` It'' was Sgt. Arthur Mosley's Distinguished Combat Chevron, won in 2039 during the Battle of Hellgarden. Won after having his liver and intestines perforated with laser shot, even as he directed a drone strike on a key enemy position. An enemy who was long forgotten, thanks to the victory at Hellsgarden. 
 
 `` We're terribly sorry, Arty old boy. Might we help?'' 
 `` You'll going to give me a loan, are ya? Melt those gold chains?'' 
 Riley winced at the bitterness. Art was right of course, they had little to spare. 
 `` What'd you need it for?'' 
 All three men exchanged looks. Personal business was not discussed here. Stu did not withdraw the question. 
 `` It's Emma. It's her sweet sixteen or something. Wants grandpa to get her a holocube, the new kind. Funny thing is her father's got her a dozen already. Mille insists I support'her' daughter and Brandon wo n't cross with her. Funny thing is, Mille told me....it's the least... the LEAST I could do.'' 
 
 It took a former soldier, street tough and ironworker three lifetimes worth of gumption not to burst out in tears, or rage. No birds however, were fed that day. The creeping cold of the world crept further into the park. 
 

