Pageant Question 25: If you were given ten dollars, what would you do with it?

Perspective, thought Gabe, picking through a recycling bin.  It's all about perspective.  He pulled out one last returnable liter bottle and dropped it in his bag, being careful to lower the lid of the recycling bin quietly.  He didn't want the cops to chase him away again because next time, they might not be so friendly.  Perspective again.  Gabe thought about how he used to hear sirens and bask in the security of his warm home and silently thank the security forces that kept him safe from all the junkies and drunks outside.  Perspective.

Back in the day, Gabe never even returned his own bottles.  Hoisting the nearly-full garbage bag over his shoulder, he cursed his past self for wastefulness and cursed himself again for wallowing in what he couldn't change.  Change was what his life was about now, wasn't it?  Change from what it was and what had been pocket change that now meant food or the special treat of a cup of coffee.  He used to have a pot of imported coffee every morning, ground and brewed just for him.  Gabe balanced himself on his bike, one bag of cans and bottles perched sideways across the handlebars and the other he held with his left hand, balanced on the narrow, improvised platform on the back, and began the treacherous ride to the bottle return.  When both bags were full, he could guarantee at least ten bucks as long as there weren't too many of those liter bottles.  Ten bucks.  I'm rich, he thought, and, surprising himself, he meant it.  Perspective.