The center was quieter than I expected.

In one room, an elderly couple filled out transportation forms with a volunteer.

In another, a father asked how to get a replacement identification card.

Near the entrance, two children played with wooden blocks while their mother took a phone call about a housing application.

Nobody looked like a storybook example of someone in need.

They looked like neighbors who had encountered problems bigger than a single conversation could solve.

Keisha handed me a stack of coats.