After packing his bags to return home, Cleo never made it. That had been two years ago. He left Little Rock heading to Wichita, Kansas, where he wandered around homeless for two years. Cleo scrounged through trashcans or he begged for money from people walking on the street. When someone gave him cash, he spent it on the bottle. It was a hard way of life. He often sat in an alley in the rain crying, wondering how his life ended up this way. One evening sitting in his cardboard box cross-legged, hands folded in his lap, he noticed a girl across the street standing in the ticket line at the movie house. She wore a worried frown on her face. Her eyes were big, and her head darted around in all directions as if looking for someone.
“What is her pain? What troubles this vulnerable woman?” he a
