The Lantern House sat between a laundromat and a shuttered furniture store.

Its front door was painted bright blue.

A handwritten sign advertised tutoring, food boxes, and an evening gathering for families of people receiving cancer treatment.

Inside, the air smelled like cinnamon and industrial floor cleaner.

Children worked on homework at mismatched tables, while two volunteers stacked grocery bags near the entrance.

A woman with a silver braid looked up from a ledger.

“I’m Marisol Alvarez,” she said.