Frank stood taller now that he had fed.

The rain was stopping but he was wet. And cold. He watched the street from the ally. People would walk by and glance into the ally but no one entered and no one saw him.

He sat on a stack of old boxes that had once held wine and whiskey bottles. He wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to gather in warmth. A beam of sunlight pierced the dark ally bathing him in a warm glow. He shivered and got to his feet.

He walked with he hands jammed into his pockets and his head down, lurching into the street and across. He stumbled through a small park – chased by the laughter of small children playing in the wet sand of the playground.

He fled the park searching for somewhere he could rest. Looking for somewhere to regain his strength. A few blocks from the park he found an old factory. The fence rusted and falling over. The building seemed to cower from the light breaking through the retreating clouds.

This was a place that Frank could call home, at least for now.