Jose had grown up poor; his dirty white pants and shirt hung loosely on his slight frame. They were spattered with color from the various houses he had painted. There were fresh splotches, pastel green, from his latest job. The speckles on his face stained his thick moustache and contrasted sharply with his dark skin.
He sat on the sidewalk and ate his lunch. The white bag was stained with grease coming off the contents. There were three tacos in the bag, filled with grilled meats, topped with bright bits of tomato and lettuce, and accented with onion and cilantro.