My eyes are apparently worse than I thought

I'm walking down the street with a friend in search of a place to eat lunch. A short man stands at the corner of a building. His skin is the color of the night; a flat hat rests lazily on his head. He sports a black T-shirt, green long-sleeved shirt, and faded blue jeans. He spots us coming.

"Hey man, you got sixty cents I can borrow?" he hollers. I shake my head slightly.

"You look like my son!" he adds as we pass by.

What? I turn my head with a quizzical smile. "That's right!" he laughs, immensely pleased with himself at startling me out of my discomfort.