I find him in the room the church uses for donations, standing over a big lump of blankets and coats on the floor. He gives me a proud, dimpled beam. “I made us a bed,” he declares, like he’s just hunted a giant animal and dragged it to our doorstep to provide for me. “Behold!” “It’s a great bed,” I say, coming to sit on it. “And look what I found in the scarf pile!” He hands me a silk scarf, and I smile up at him as I take it and wrap up my hair.
