There Was A Fire Alarm

It is Saturday morning and we are just leaving the hotel to head out. The fire alarms go off and a voice comes on the PA system advising everyone to evacuate the hotel via the emergency stairwells. The automatic fire doors disengage and close around us. Tony and I take the stairwell down from the seventh floor, which takes us out the side of the building. There is a homeless man sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk, writing on a piece of cardboard with a sharpie. His sleeping bag is rolled up tightly next to him. I cross the alley and shake hands and talk to him briefly. I give him five dollars and wish him a good morning. He thanks me and we shake hands again.