Prison teaches you to save food even when nobody is going to take it.
The church office was closed.
There was a handwritten sign.
OPEN WEDNESDAY.
It was Tuesday.
I stared at that sign for a long time.
One day.
It should not have felt like much.
But I had nowhere to spend the night.
I went to the police station.
That was humiliating.
I asked whether there was a shelter.
The officer at the desk told me the nearest women’s shelter was thirty miles away.
No transportation.
No beds guaranteed.
He gave me a phone number.
I called from the lobby.
Full.
I tried another.
Also full.
Then the officer said.
“You could try county services tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
Everything was tomorrow.
A bed.
My family.
My daughter.
Help.
I walked until sunset.
Behind the chapel was a small covered area beside a storage shed.
I sat against the wall.
Nobody told me to leave.
So I stayed.
That night, the cold settled into my bones.
I had one thin jacket.
No blanket.
I put my bag under my shirt because I was afraid someone would steal it.
The ground was too cold to lie down.
So I slept sitting up.
Or tried.
Every sound woke me.
Cars.
Dogs.
Wind.
At one point, a thin stray dog stood near the edge of the churchyard.
Brown fur.
One white paw.
Its ribs showed.
It watched me.
I watched it.
Neither of us moved closer.
Somewhere around dawn, I whispered.
“At least you know where you belong.”
The dog tilted its head.
Then walked away.
When the sun began rising, I stood.
My legs were numb.
My stomach was empty again.
I looked toward the hills.
That was when I remembered the cave.
Old women in Cedar Valley used to tell stories about it.
A cave hidden somewhere above the eastern ridge.
Some said smugglers had used it during Prohibition.
Others said Native families had sheltered there long before the town existed.
Children called it cursed.
My grandfather called that nonsense.
He had once told me.
“People call places cursed when they’re afraid of what they don’t understand.”
I had been ten.
I asked if he had ever been inside.
He smiled.
“Once.”
Then refused to say more.
I remembered roughly where it was.
Beyond the old quarry road.
Past the dry creek.
Up through a section of scrub oak.
