On the way home, I walked past the men’s shelter and met Walter, catcalling for money, and Pierre, sitting on a bench behind him on Carroll St, under the shaded trees that lined the Capitol Square.
Walter was from Chicago where he had gotten kicked out of his apartment for having the wrong kind of people over. He snickered at the memory and lit a cigarette. He had family in Madison, that’s why he was there. Pierre was more motivated and as Walter leaned back, Pierre leaned forward; he was from Chicago as well. Pierre was looking for a job. He was working for the day-laborer companies just until something else came up.