Dear Anonymous,
Slept outside. He's cold. Trades in mittens that don't work functionally for him for a new pair of gloves. His backpack stolen too. He grabs a coat and thermal shirts, socks. A bite to eat. A coffee card. Races off to the ferry terminal to wash up.
I always see his level of attention to being cleaned up and tidy. I sense a pride in that.
But he is cold.
Cold. Backpack-less.