No harm here, except that it blocks the door to somebody’s upstairs business. Not sitting on the street or obstructing shoppers and eaters. Their presence must still annoy the Czars of the Church St. Market Place, but they cannot have everything. No way to reserve these spaces, but some people return to the same spots so much that the place becomes identified with them.
A guy approached Paul, seated here. “This was Andy’s spot,” said the guy.
“I met Andy at Maple Leaf. He was my counselor. Strange, that you can go to treatment, get help from a guy, and then drink with him. They found Andy this winter, dead behind a dumster at City Market. He just had enough. Gave up.”
Scott knew him also. “I went to the wake at Turning Point. Good crowd. Nice guy.”
“How’d you like Maple Leaf,” the guy inquired. It didn’t seem like either Paul or Scott knew him, or, at least if they did, they didn’t call him by name.
“OK, I guess. My PO told me it was either jail or treatment. I chose treatment. While I was there, I met a couple of guys who had had too much. I gave them some scripture and talked them down off-the-roof. When I came home, my PO said that he heard that I had helped some guys at Maple Leaf.”
“What did he say about that,” inquired the guy?
“Nothing much.”
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