I walk the streets for an hour, dragging my limbs, shivering incessantly with a banging head and heavy body. I have no idea where I am going, other than trying to kill time until daylight is blazing in the sky and the building I live in wakes up and fills with more than just night crawling psychos. I'll feel safer going back when it's morning and I can spend more time trying to get the door shut before I need to get ready for work at least. It's only a couple of hours, maybe, before sunrise and I can handle street living until then. I mean, this was once my entire existence when I couldn't find a place to stay, and I was flat out broke after getting to America. I have slept under bridges and all sorts. I am no stranger to being homeless; I just didn't think I would still be doing it at my
