Meadow Lark Terrace apartments are a temporary refuge for Conrad Hensley after his escape from Santa Rita, but not a place of rest. The apartment’s crowding, his dwindling cash, and his fear of drawing attention make it one stop in a fragile effort to remain safe and find somewhere he can call his own.

A Crowded Refuge

On a warm June morning, Conrad is walking through Old Chamblee, which still looks like a small country town. The night before, at Meadow Lark Terrace, he slept curled on the floor with his overnight bag pressed against him for safekeeping. He shared the crowded surroundings with a dozen or more Vietnamese residents, and the conversations around him kept him awake. He woke repeatedly, tense and on guard, with no assurance that another night there would be manageable.

Money and Exposure

The apartment is also bound up with Conrad’s precarious finances. Of the $1,500 Kenny had given him, Conrad has only $272 left. Eating at restaurants along Buford Highway would quickly consume it. As he walks through Chamblee, his guilt over having taken an Army Jeep during the earthquake makes him wonder how he appears to the town’s residents. His clothes and overnight bag seem unremarkable to him, but the empty streets make him feel conspicuous. The contrast is sharp: he has found temporary shelter, yet neither privacy nor security.

A Bed of His Own

Conrad eventually pays Sister Munger for a small, stifling room at $75 a month. After spending more than three hours arranging its old belongings beneath the eaves, he lies down on a dusty, yellowing bedspread and listens to his heartbeat. He has $197 left and, for the next thirty days, a bed of his own. The move does not erase his unemployment or his status as an escaped convict, but it marks a modest change from the exposed, crowded nights at Meadow Lark Terrace: a little space, a little time, and the possibility of human company.