Chuck had slept on a park bench again and washed up in a public bathroom. He had not been able to shave. His small bag had been stolen the first night. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. The weather had turned cold. He was damp, hungry, and miserable.
“This is California, for Pete’s sake. Where is the sunshine? I don’t care if it is September, it should be warmer than this!” He wrung out the newspaper he had used for a blanket.
It hadn’t been so bad the first couple of weeks, but now one thought kept coming back to him. He knew where he could go for the night and stay dry and warm. This was not going to be easy. He had struggled with himself long enough. There just wasn’t anywhere else to go. It was time to check out the Armory.
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