The Bag

I am sitting on a park bench, and a really nasty, grizzled bum sits down on the park bench next to me.
He raises a paper bag to his face every few seconds.
I try to ignore him, but I just want to yell at the guy to go away… leave… go drink in some alley.
Before I can say anything, he takes the bottle out of the bag and offers me the bag.
“You look like you’re about to hyperventilate,” he says. “Breathe into this a few times and you’ll feel better.”
Then he gets up and walks away.