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Just as the sun is rising, they slowly shuffle up the steps, waiting for the red doors to open.
The unseasonably warm weather helps. The aches in their bones aren’t so bad as they try to shake off the stiffness and pain of another night on the streets.
Many have a favourite spot to sleep in, and this is where they choose to go for breakfast.
They file in quietly and take their seats. Some read the newspapers left for them, while others just lay their heads down and enjoy the silence.
The menu today is chilli and beans. There are sausages and toast, and even a bit of cake. The spoonful of each they collect may not seem like much by American standards but for the seventy or so people who pass through this free food kitchen in the hall of a church, it is enough.
It’s a hot meal they can count on. It means, for a few hours, they won’t have the ache of hunger in their stomachs, or the worry of when they might eat next.
Errol Ware visits the hall on the five days it’s open. He’s been unemployed for a while, and to him the free breakfast is very welcome: “It makes a big difference, everyone has to eat and I’m very glad it’s here, very glad.”