You keep your cot clean clean clean. Your little corner is so immaculate that it shines. It makes everyone else look dirty old and useless. Don't think they don't hate you for it. You don't drink and you walk the streets looking for work. Finding thrown away items you can fix up to improve the shelter. You are such a fucking perfect little angel that the other homeless people have a smother party deep into a stormy night. They grab pillows and blankets and they dog pile you in your sleep. Fifteen stinky men laying on you pressing things to your face until you die. They get away with it. No one spends much time investigating the death of a homeless man after all.
The End