Had I saved his life? I doubted it, feeling that if I hadn’t fed him, someone else would have come along and provided him with provisions to survive. Welcoming Kevin inside my home didn’t make me a hero or noble, just human. Besides, the act of providing him with food and a place to stay for the night was all about him, not me. Anyone could have reached out to him and supplied him with a kind hand, offering some type of help for his survival. None of that evening was about me. Honestly.
After he ate, enjoying three full helpings, I showed him his room, opposite mine on the Cape Cod’s second floor. “It’s small, but will do the trick.”
He scanned the room’s many blues, three windows, and tiny closet. A narrow bed sat near one of the windows; both had seen better days. Next to the bed stood
