I keeping thinking of how The Drop Inn will go. I guess I'm just going to imagine my experience there for next week. It will probably be completely different...

I imagine the walls to be blue. Light blue, like the ceiling of a ten-year-old girl's bedroom. When there are painted clouds and a yellow sun in the corner. Torie had a room like that. A couple years a go she changed it to deep red.

But yes, the walls will be blue. On all four sides. To emphasize happiness, that this life may get better. Blue provides a feeling of hope. But it could also mean sadness. That may not be good for the homeless people.

We'll walk into the room and it will have high ceilings, with long metal tables, lined in rows. The florescent lights cause a shine on the table tops. It reminds me of my middle school cafeteria. The permanent workers immediately usher us to the kitchen. More long metal tables and metal ovens and stoves. They give us hair-nets. I hate hair-nets. We bring out, again, metal dishes with saran wrap covering watery food. The smell of soup mixed with plastic makes my stomach curl.

And then we're set into place. All aligned behind metal tables. The homeless file in, some with smiles, others with puffy eyes, half closed. Some look at the ground and I can't tell what color hair they have, knit gray hats cover their heads and half of their ears.

"Give me more of that," A man lethargically points to my pan. He has wrinkly skin and bulging eyes. They are the same color eyes as those Huskie dogs, like Balto. Intense. I wonder what those eyes have seen. Where those eyes have rested. In a public bathroom? Or an alley during a snow storm?
"Make sure you're spoon doesn't make contact with his plate," a permanent worker says, eyeing my hand. "You're pretty close and if it touches, it may contaminate the rest of the food. We'd have to get a whole 'nother pan out. And we don't like waste."
I come out of my head and quickly flick the spoon away from the man. Bits of soup flies onto his shirt.
"Look what you've done," the man with Huskie eyes says. He shuffles towards a metal table, mumbling under his breath.