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.
