“It’s below forty degrees out there,” she said.

“The community shelter on Elm Street’s open until ten,” I told her.

“It’s four blocks past the hardware store.”

“I’ve never slept in a shelter in my life,” she said.

“They’ve got hot soup and wool blankets,” I said.

“Sarah worked a couple of shifts there three winters back.”

Vanessa turned her head and looked back down the dark hall toward the living room stairs.

The warm glow from the brass floor lamp only reached as far as the bottom step.