Alone by Tiffany Lovering Page B

me during one of our visits that people were starting to go there to hide out. I hadn't been there since the morning I went to find Sara and I was curious how the painting was holding up. I put the plates into a box and grabbed a couple bottles of soda along with some paper cups.
    I decided to take my Jeep to the building so I didn't have to carry everything. When I got there, I grabbed the box of food and my bag carrying the bottles of soda. I turned around to face the entrance and there was a young girl staring back at me. I lifted the box and said, “Hungry?” Her face lit up and she nodded excitedly. I handed her the box and my bag so I could crawl through the window.
    “ How many people are here?” I asked wondering if I had enough.
    “ Just five. Most people went to the shelter but we heard they were turning people away because they didn't have enough to feed everyone.”
    “ I definitely have enough to feed you guys.”
    “ Thank you so much. There's this painting on the third floor. We're all just hanging out there.”
    “ A painting?” I asked surprised.
    “ Yeah, you've gotta see it. It's of these trees and it's just... I can't even describe it.” I followed her to room 27 to where the group was all huddling in ragged blankets. “Hey, someone came to bring us food.”
    “ There's more than enough for everyone,” I said handing out the plates. “Do you mind if I stick around?”
    “ You're not some religious nut here to tell us about the path to heaven?” a guy asked me.
    I couldn't help but laugh. “Absolutely not.”
    “ Have a seat. It's not very comfortable but the view is great,” a girl said pointing to the painting.
    I sat down in their circle in a spot where I could look at City Woods from where I was. It had been over a month since I had painted it so I was happy it was still untouched. “Pretty good painting,” I said coolly.
    “ It's awesome,” the girl who let me in responded.
    “ Personally, I've never seen anything like it. It's made quite an impact,” another girl said.
    “ What's your name anyway?” the guy asked me again.
    “ Willow,” I said hesitantly, but didn't appear as though anyone noticed the connection between my name and the signature on the painting.
    The girl who let me in and the guy introduced themselves as Chris and Becca. The others didn't offer their names and I didn't feel I should ask them. I wondered if Chris and Becca were a couple, he seemed protective of her somehow. I sat and talked for an hour or so while I watched them eat the free meal. They were all very appreciative of the food which made me feel good. They told me a bit about what they do during the day and how they survive on the streets. It sounded like an impossible life, going from one shelter to another to sleep or eat. Most of the shelters around here had hours where you could come and you had to leave at a specific time in the morning. I never knew that. I always thought that shelters let you stay until you found a permanent residence. Listening to their stories showed me just how ignorant I was about street life.
    I learned a lot about their way of life. They told me that most people stayed away from shelters because it was basically a welcome mat for body lice and staying at a shelter was a good way to get robbed. They explained the reason they wore so many layers at once wasn't just because it was cold. The clothing served as sort of a body armor in case someone decided to stab them. They told me how they would rummage through garbage cans not for food, but for clothing. People would throw away clothes without a second thought and it was a homeless person's jackpot when they found such a can.
    “ Oh my god!” one of the girls burst out. Everyone looked alarmed at her outburst. “You're Willow!” She was pointing at the painting again. “You painted this!”
    “ Uh, yeah,” I said nervously.
    That launched us into a conversation about the painting, how I came up with it, why