I saw Danny this week. He was walking down Church Street in downtown New Haven, pretending he had somewhere to go. I knew better. Luckily I saw him in time and could slow my pace so that he didn't catch my eye. I didn't want to hear it from him again. Not yet.
Danny appeared on our porch on a cold December afternoon a couple of years ago, hat in hand. He was honest, at least. He'd been sleeping here and there since getting back into town, he said, mostly on the porch of the Red Cross headquarters across from the church. The people there didn't seem to mind, and he always cleared out before anyone arrived for work in the morning. He didn't want anyone to be frightened.