a change'll do me

"Change."

It was a flat statement. Pronounced by a beggar right at the moment when he realised that he should be begging. There was no inflection, no rising of pitch. It wasn't the typical pleading "Change?", but a simple fact of the current moment. "Change."

I continued past him, in that rush-hour city stride. Head bent down, moving a little bit faster than usual. Walking with purpose and destination, using the slipstream of the people walking in front of me and past me to move just that little bit faster.

I kept hearing that word in my head. Change. Change. Change. Simply at first, then with more assertion. Change. CHAnge. CHANGE. From a statement of fact to a barked order. Until my mind was filled with a ticker show of bolded capital letters.

CHANGE!

I'd had thoughts of transition in my head, but change was more apt. Transition implies an easing into a new situation, a gentle change of events. I've never been a gentle person, more like a biting sandstorm than a breeze. And like a sandstorm, leaving behind evidence of my presence scattered everywhere, until others cleaned up. So change, with its brusqueness and abruptness was definitely a better word.

A change'll do me good.