When I meet people, I live in fear of people asking me ‘the’ question; but eventually after some small talk, the question always comes.
It’s an innocent question, but it throws me every time. I normally look at the person and size them up before I answer. I try to determine how deep I can go with them.
Reactions tend to vary. Some people want to know more and some just go oh, and move on; too much for their brain to comprehend. Or maybe they are just trying to figure out if my answer is the politically correct way to say “I’m a homeless person”.
I have struggled to give my ‘situation’ a name and tried out a few words such as:
Hobo (my niece’s personal favorite)
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