Seven years.

Two evictions, two winters outside, a shelter locker and a rucksack, and the man kept his work badge in the zip pocket.

And a photograph.

A four-by-six print, the kind you got back in an envelope from a chemist, and the paper is from a long time ago.

It is a photograph of the ceremony room in Saint Paul.

The arch with the silk flowers, the carpet, the window at the end, and the chair in the corner.

There is nobody in it.