Going Homeless
Prologue
Who he was and where he was from were not immediately apparent. The frayed pockets of his tattered jacket held no identification. His two-day growth of beard and the gaunt, haggard condition of his skin marked him as one of Los Angeles' growing number of persons without a place to call home. His entire existence was a mystery, with two obvious exceptions. The tiny piece of circuitry in the man's pocket meant that Oscar Goldman was about to be awakened by a late night phone call. The other obvious fact was that this particular soul no longer carried the weight of his troubles on his pain-hunched back; he was dead.
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