I’d seen him walk by a few times in the past weeks. Apparently we was living up the street with Manuel. Today, he stopped, took a hesitant step forward and then asked if he could come in. I closed my laptop and rose to greet him. His name was Francisco.

“Would you like to sit down?” I asked.

“Sure.” He took a seat opposite me at the plastic folding table where I had been working. His tired eyes took a quick survey of the room. He looked like a man with a burden.

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