I nearly dialed 911 on the tattooed teenager holding a screaming baby inside an empty 1 AM laundromat. Then his bag tore open, and my stomach sank with utter shame.

Maple Creek Children’s Clinic.

Day shift.

Benefits.

Steady hours.

The kind of job he had once studied for under fluorescent laundromat lights while his daughter screamed.

He should have been happy.

He was happy.

For about ten minutes.

Then he realized the job required a six-week training program in another city.

Not far.

Two hours away.

But far enough that he continue reading …