I live one block behind my work, in what everyone calls 'the big green house.'  Two couples (me included) and a freeloader live there, and we all turned in early last night.

Two minutes after I opened the store this morning, my 9 year old neighbor ran in the store and hugged me.  "You're OK!"

I said, "Sure, baby, what's wrong?"

He said, "There were ambulances by your house last night.  I thought you or someone was dead!"

I assured him that every thing was fine in my house, though some one else had clearly had a bad night.

Throughout the five hours I worked, three other people, all adults, came by to make sure the big green house, myself, and my roommates were all right, without making a purchase.  That made me feel cared for in a way that I've never felt before.  To those people, I'm just a clerk and a neighbor, and they still had genuine concern for (as they say) me and mine.

And people call this the ghetto...