Frost covered the plastic windows of Sharon's mobile
home. She stepped over sleeping kids and
grandkids and out to the trailer’s front porch. Her terrycloth robe was thin and the color of green apples and she
pulled it around her spare frame and it did little to hold back the cold.
Another soft knock and she pushed open the storm door. Are
you Sharon, a woman asked. We’re from
St. Matt’s. 
