A blind man sat at the bottom of the steps of a courthouse, where he knew many regulars would stop and drop change into his old tin can. He basked in the warmth of the sun on that chilly morning. He heard the first steps in his direction. Cling. A good soul dropped a coin. He reached into the can. His fingers recognized the quarter. He heard several more steps as giggly young women walked in his direction. Their chatter turned into a silent reverence as they read his sign. Cling, cling. Several Continue Reading