CHANGING PLACES
Prompt - Changing Places : imagine living the day as someone else.
It hadn't been too bad a night. No, he had to tell himself, it was a good night. He'd found a shop door with a bit of residual warmth. After a while James had asked if he could bed down beside him, so that was a bit of extra warmth. And safety. Always good to have someone nearer any trouble than you were. James was a decent enough guy, they'd come across one another a few times in the past six months, so he felt OK with him. But it hadn't been a cold night anyway. Although it was early October there hadn't been any really bitter ones yet. And nobody had come near, shouted, kicked, pissed on them. There were a couple of drunks swaying past loudly at one point, but that had been it until he heard the street cleaning truck passing by. Yes, it had been a good night.
James seemed still to be asleep, so it gave him a few minutes to think about the day ahead. Try to give himself some purpose. He felt in his inner pocket. the money was still there. Four pounds, eighteen pence. Enough for a coffee and a bacon roll at Gaffney's Shack. He'd start the day with hunger suppressed. That was one problem dealt with already.
Food. More food. Always food. Today was Wednesday. The soup van would be on Gerard terrace about one, so he'd best not miss out on that. Sometimes he'd get seconds too. Or they might have doughnuts. Either way it would be enough to see him through the day. Which meant any money he did come by could be put to having a bed for the night. If not today then maybe tomorrow. Eighteen pounds was a lot to get in one day, but he'd done it before. Maybe not in October though...
If he could get there before others he'd set himself up outside the station early on, see how many commuters he could get something from. There would be a few of his regulars he could rely on. Might get three or four quid there. He peered out from under his cover. Sky looked cloudy, but not too dark. He'd be able to say more when it got a bit lighter. But if the rain stayed off he had a chance to do well. He felt optimistic.
If he could get a bed at the hostel he could get cleaned up, feel human for a bit. Eighteen quid was a lot, but it was worth the investment sometimes. More so when the weather was bad of course, or if there were rumours of 'beggar hunts', gangs of kids out to give homeless people like him a hard time. Teeth got lost that way, bones broken. He'd been lucky so far. Six months on the street and no really violent encounters. He was forty eight and still didn't look much older when he had a chance to get himself decent. But if he had to try to survive the winter... he'd look seventy by spring. They always did.
So if he could get a bed he'd use that as a reason to go and see if Jenny was in at Shelter tomorrow. She'd been great so far, given him lots of tips, told him she was looking for somewhere for him. Maybe tomorrow would be the day. He'd get an address. Get an address and you can get a job. Get a job and you have money coming in, can rebuild a life.
He stopped himself. Should know by now - never think beyond the day ahead. Money. Food. Shelter. Talk to someone, anyone, to be reminded what being in society was like. Those were today's aims. Like yesterday's, and the day before that. Survival. Keeping alive, keeping sane.
James grunted. That was his cue to start making his move. He packed up his stuff - didn't take long - stood up and stretched. Stepped over the still recumbent James and into the early morning air. He felt a bit dizzy, but nothing that bacon roll wouldn't sort out. Bring on the day.
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