A Convenient Lie

I am procrastinating finals, and felt like posting the newest few paragraphs of my novel.

At the bottom of the stairway was a metal gate.  The gate was built into the stone wall that ran parallel to the building.  Patrick slid the bolt in the gate to the right, and the iron door swung open, creaking softly.  He pulled his bike through the opening.  Immediately outside the gate was a ragged looking man, who lay with his head slumped against the wall.  A cup labeled “change” was stretched up in his hand, but with a quick glance, Patrick discerned that there was no money in there.  For a moment, he debated with him-self, trying to decide whether or not he should give the man any money.  He thought of the lonely twenty dollar bill folded in his wallet, and decided against philanthropy.
“Spare change, please, sir!” moaned the man.
“I’m sorry, I’m broke too,” mumbled Patrick, desperate to escape the situation.
Fortunately, the man did not make a wild attempt to grab at Patrick’s pant leg, did not murmur incoherent threats.  He just stared back with broken eyes, and for a second, Patrick contemplated reneging on his decision.  But how could he possibly afford to give money away when he was a month behind on his rent?
He hopped onto his bike, trying to forget the image of those eyes.  They were light blue, and the memory of them was engraved into his mind.

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