Matt had arrived in Springfield, Illinois, and was walking down West Mason street, eyeing a bar and grill lounge, thinking about how he would convince the manager to spare him a bite. In his travels, Matt had already worked as a scullion and supply carrier, mostly for business owners that took a pity and gave him a couple of days of allowance for his help. On every occasion, Matt had to convince them he was older than he looked but refused to get into any details on why he had no papers to identify himself. What the boy hated the most was bumping on rednecks or white supremacists; him being black and all, dressed in filthy clothes that he changed every few weeks and usually looking like a beggar, made him a direct target for them. While his usual tactics included running away from trouble,
