A young woman at the front desk asked if I needed help.

I told her I was just looking.

She gave me a cup of coffee.

Trevor started his community service at a construction-trades training center the foundation helped fund.

He spent two hundred hours sweeping floors and carrying lumber for a crew of nineteen-year-olds, none of whom knew his last name and several of whom, I’m told, found him very funny to boss around.

He kept going after the hours were done.