It all started as a pimple or a mosquito bite on my arm. As my skin started dissolving from a bacterial infection, cellulitis, something was going wrong.

On the third day I walked down the street to the Urgent Care, but because I was not a card-holding member . . . later a shepherd noticed me to the ER.

48 hours later

I returned to the ER check-in counter with my hesitations but my name bracelet was printed after a totally dissociative round of questions that had been answered last time, as I eloquated in my head.

Damn, I’m never going to tell you about the Hospital Commune.

I’ll lend an ear generously. I admire people when they communicate with me even as strangers, some stories about their lives past and present. He said, “Dave! That’s right isn’t it, Dave?”

He was just like a friend and without making an awkward disbelieving smirk, I told him how great it was to meet him.

With a joint-rolling gesture it was totally cool, but I didn’t have any cigarettes to share. It turns out that he could smoke a cigarette crumble as far as the surface of the trash can and the area of the concrete and inside the potted plants covered in soil.

I’ve been there, sort of.

As time passed, I saw others do the same. Ask for a cigarette and then looking all over the place with different approaches to discover the tobacco.

Back to my friend–he made an argumentative question which I had to reply to with “No, I’ve never been a home owner, I’m always just a renter.”

Amazing, right? I pushed the small talk to keep his chin up because it was sort of an effort for him to reach out.

When I talk to transients in the daytime at different times of the day, the part about making a phone call on my iPhone came up, so I gave him a deal.

“if you STAY HERE, I will let you. . .”
“Would you dial it for me. .”
“. . .use my phone.”
‘. . .I don’t think I could manage, to tell you the truth.”

This was a challenge, and I already opened the keypad. The number went on with such a strange sequence. When he started talking in the leave a message voice my thoughts were very provoked because the message was for his dad.

I was right.

My heart strings were plucked as the sickly addict left a message on his distant father’s answering machine.