I was at a meeting the other day, talking to my friend Hannah. An older women, she's just very jolly. She's such a good reader. Eloquent. She reminds me of santa clause. She wears this huge, russian-looking fur hat. I think this is why assumed she had money. She always asks me for rides to Pathmark after the meeting. Not sure what I assumed she was doing at Pathmark at 10 PM every night, but I never really thought of it. She was talking about some guy that pisses her off, and she mentions sort of peripherally that she was homeless. Shame on me, I thought. Shame on someone. Shame. Shame. Shame. I hugged her and she almost started crying. What does homelessness look like? Not her. Not her. There was nothing I could give her, excpet a ride. I don't have a penny to my name. There's nothing but white space in the refrigerator. Maybe a home for her dog, her best friend? I have a cat I can barely take care of. We waited outside for my friend who was driving. It was freezing and it felt like we were standing outside, waiting, forever. It was cold. She offered me a coat. I took it. It was the only gift I could give her.