You startled me. When I turned to walk up the parking garage stairway and saw you lying over in the corner, you startled me. You didn't mean to, I know. It's just that I'm not used to seeing anything over in that corner of the Washington Park Garage , let alone a body. I took a few steps forward and my hand took hold of the stair rail as if to begin my ascent. But I couldn't. I had to pause for a moment to get a good look at you. You were lying on your stomach, using your bag as a pillow. My body took a chill when I thought of yours pressed against the cold, cold concrete. Your coat was decorated with black scuff marks, dirt, and stains. It wasn't a proper winter coat. As one would do for a cranky toddler, I began to rummage through my purse looking for something, anything, to give you. I cupped the contents of the bottom of my purse for anything packaged, edible. I sifted through the lip gloss, pens, and grocery store receipts. I was only able to