Ghetto Houseguest
Years ago I shared an apartment with a young man who, although harmless himself, was raised in an environment the opposite of my own childhood. He shared stories of threatened walks home and an involvement in things the likes of me can’t understand. At one point his childhood friend became a somewhat permanent fixture on our living room couch. I was reassured by my boyfriend (also the roommate’s best friend) that this mysterious creature dozing with my chenille throw each morning was an innocent six foot bundle. I swallowed my discomfort and in the weeks that followed I found an ally and a friend in the most unusual of circumstances.