“I know she didn’t.” His eyes filled again. “That’s why I’m standing here.”
I called for my husband.
Wade appeared behind me in the doorway, confusion written across his face.
“Who is this?”
“The man Alice has been feeding,” I whispered. “He came to warn us.”
“He came to warn us.”
“Come inside. Please.”
This time the homeless man obeyed.
He sat stiffly on the edge of our couch, his hands folded like he was afraid to touch anything.
“How long has this been going on?” I asked.
I still thought the boy was the most important part of his story.
“A few weeks now. There’s a boy, a loud one, popular with the others. He started calling her names when he saw her giving me the food.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“What kind of names?”
The man hesitated.
“Dirty. Poor. They’d laugh. Some of them threw things.”
