"This your corner?"
The man with blue eyes looks up, sun directly behind the stranger in front of him. Stubbled, disheveled, with a torn leather jacket and a grungy terrier in his arms. Green eyes. The stranger nods at the corner of Sunset and Fairfax. Blue Eyes shakes his head, surfer-blonde hair bobbing slightly.
"No. You're welcome to sit."
Green Eyes settles down beside Blue Eyes. He strokes behind the terrier's ears, and its eyes close in pleasure. "Nobody's thrown much my way," Blue Eyes says.
"The way it's always been." Green Eyes extends his hand, and a passing soccer mom hurries her child along. "They're so damn selfish."
"You can't blame people for being selfish. They were made that way. Beneath the Toyotas and the Levis and the overpriced jewelry-- they're animals," says Blue Eyes. "They can't help it."
Green Eyes says nothing, watches more people walk by. A clutch of middle schoolers, a goateed man wearing a scarf, then a old black woman in a business suit.
"Being homeless really separates you, doesn't it?"
"Oh," Green Eyes says, "I'm not homeless. I'm just on leave, I guess."
"You're not one of them."
Green Eyes narrows his eyes. Blue Eyes meets his gaze, smile just touching the corners of his mouth.
"I'm not either. Sometimes you can tell. The difference between regular folks and... us."
"What gave it away?" asks Green Eyes.
"It's in the eyes, mostly. And the movement. Even something as simple as walking or sitting down carries the grace of a swan or eagle or some fucking bird."
Green Eyes laughs, and Blue Eyes leans in and strokes the terrier's neck. It yips once, then arches its back.
"Which side were you on?" asks Blue Eyes. "Defenders or usurpers?"
"Defenders," says Green Eyes.
"Usurpers," says Blue Eyes. "Hope you don't hate me."
"I try to not hate anyone."
"Sounds difficult."
"It can be very difficult."
"Well," Blue Eyes, "bygones and all that."
He offers his hand. Green Eyes hesitates, then shakes. As he does, Blue Eyes notices for the first time the scar tissue on the back of Green Eyes' hand.
"It's you."
"What?"
Blue Eyes grins and lifts the blonde hair from his forehead, revealing two circular scars near his temples.
"I will say this, their surgeons have improved."
Green Eyes smiles and says, "You don't need to keep doing this. I would let you back in."
"Hah! Get bent."
"I mean it."
"I changed my mind. This is my corner. Leave. Take your goddamn rat with you."
Green Eyes lifts himself up, dog still in his hands. But he doesn't walk. He stands still, looking at Blue Eyes, who avoids his gaze and stares ahead at the intersection.
"We let all of your friends back in."
"I said leave, you self-righteous shit."
Green Eyes nods, turns, and takes a few steps east. Then he about-faces, drops the terrier, and rushes towards Blue Eyes. Blue Eyes lifts his arms in self-defense, and Green Eyes wraps his arms around him. Hugs him. For the briefest of moments, Blue Eyes accepts this, then he wrestles free.
"If you won't leave, I will."
He returns to his spot, picks up his half-full can of change and slings a backpack over his shoulder. He looks at the walk signs at the intersection and picks the first white one he sees, due west.
Behind him, Green Eyes shouts, "Dad misses you."
He waits at the intersection for an hour. When he convinces himself that his brother is not coming back, the man with green eyes sits on the curb and silently weeps. The terrier licks his cheeks. A taxi horn honks. A young boy in a basketball jersey drops a quarter at his feet.