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My History homework which includes Alfred F Jones!I then went to speak to Alfred. F. Jones- a recently unemployed businessman who lives with his wife and daughter in their almost empty apartment.
I ask him to tell me about his life and how the Depression has affected it he says; “I used to have great job, working for a massive car industry which enabled me to get quite a bit of cash in, which made life better for my family and I and then BAM. The Wall Street Crash came down on us all like a brick wall (excuse the pun) and nobody knew what to do except desperately sell their shares for any price which people would take them for. I heard Hoover got the Banks roped in to help us but here we are… stuck in the middle of a Depression… now I can barely afford food for my family, why last night my little girl Lucy asked me why she had such a small slither and meat on her plate and why she couldn't have anymore as she was still hungry. Kids don’t understand hunger, pain and sorrow as well as us adults do. There too na
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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