Father Joe approached me smiling. “I wondered where you ended up. Have you been in LA this whole time?”

I nodded but still said nothing.

“Dare I ask what brings you here tonight?”

I shrugged. “I’m not really sure to be perfectly honest.”

He nodded. “Do you find yourself randomly turning up at shelters often?”

I shook my head, “Not in over a year, no.”

He smiled, “Well, I’m glad to hear that things are finally going your way. Is there something specific you wanted to talk about, child?”

I silently chuckled. I hadn’t been called Child in years. “No, I just saw an article on you in a paper a couple weeks ago and guess I had to see if it was true for myself.”

“Yes, the unmoving priest finally changed locations, it’s true. A dear friend of mine that I knew in seminary school ran this shelter for years. He got sick and has since retired, and asked me personally to come finish what he started.”

I nodded. “And how is the cowboy priest enjoying LA?”

He laughed. “Well, it’s not Austin, I’ll say that much! And I don’t see my cowboy boots going down well out here.”

I smirked and shook my head, remembering as a kid seeing him play basketball with the kids at the shelter, running around the court in these beat-up old cowboy boots.

The woman from the front desk tapped me on the shoulder, and explained to me it was time to close the doors for the night and asked if I was needing a bed. I shook my head but thanked her.

“Shane, why don’t you come back by tomorrow? We’ll sit down and have a proper talk?”

I smiled, shook my head, and looked down at my feet.

“Well, I see some things never change. OK then, why don’t you come by tomorrow, we’ll sit down, and I’ll talk your ear off for a few hours? Let you know how people in Austin are doing? You can humour an old man for a bit.”