The smell of coffee pulled me awake before I ever opened my eyes.
For a few seconds, I remained exactly where I was, trying to convince myself I was imagining it. The concrete beneath me was hard against my back, and the cool Atlanta morning air carried the familiar sounds of a city beginning to wake. Somewhere nearby, a delivery truck rattled over uneven pavement. A car horn sounded in the distance. Birds argued with one another from a tree I couldn't see.
Then the smell drifted through the air again.
Fresh coffee.
Strong coffee.
The kind of coffee that made sleeping on a bench seem slightly less miserable.
I opened my eyes.
Timothy Anderson sat at the opposite end of the concrete bench holding two cups and staring out at the city as though he had all the time in the world.
"Morni
