Rose Tumbler walked past the campers outside the gate, then entered the building. When she approached the desk, she was a willing candidate—this time.
“Hi,” she said to the woman behind the desk.
“You look familiar. Have you been here before?” she asked.
“Yes, but just overnight.”
“I seem to remember you disappeared before your appointment for evaluation,” the woman said, adjusting her glasses.
“Yes, I did that.”
“What brings you here today?”
“I want to get in your program.”
“You do? Why? What changed from last time?” she asked, reaching for a clipboard.
“Uh, I’m afraid. And it’s time.”
The woman looked at her with more seriousness. “Afraid of what? Or is it whom?”
“No one in particular. I’m just scared being on the street,” Rose lied, feeling ill at ease. She was afraid for her
