He was warming to his topic, so I didn’t interrupt.
“For days, weeks, I scrounged old newspapers, looking for stories about missing persons. Or some horrible crime. If I had family worried about me, wouldn’t they have contacted the press?”
“Maybe. Did you come to the Lassiters then?”
“Not at first. I stayed in homeless shelters in Tarpon Springs and Clearwater, but the people who ran them asked too many questions. Eventually I found an old bike someone had left as garbage on a curb. I fixed the chain and appropriated it for transportation. Between collecting cans and doing odd jobs, I earned enough money to buy food. I shopped in thrift stores for clothes. All I needed was a place to stay. That’s when I discovered the toolshed out back, here. It’s handy for my bike, being next to the Trail, and I worked out an exchange with Violet and Bessie, odd jobs in place of rent.”
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