(no subject)
I found a dead body in the alley today. The man's eyes were open, so I closed them. He was a transient I had had coffee with on occasion, a fellow named Ian. He'd been beaten to death. Ian was mentally disabled, and was supported entirely by his parents. When they died, he had no one to support him financially, and he didn't know how to go about asking for help. So he ended up on the street, with only one thing of value: his grandfather's wedding ring, which he never took off. I didn't like the idea of the ring ending up in an evidence room, so I took it off his finger, went to a pay phone, and called the police. When they asked for my name, I told them "Ian's ghost" and hung up. I bought a chain for the ring, and I'm wearing it as a necklace right now. Tomorrow I'll set out to find Ian's family.