Out in the street, I ran. The night was damp and dark, and more silent than normal. I’d never been alone at night like this, and I was a little scared. On Woodland, there were streetlights that cast an odd yellow glow and threw shadows everywhere, but once I was on the gravel road to the farm, the lights disappeared.

The rain had gone, but the sky was still overcast, and the moon barely showed at all behind the clouds. I was lucky I knew the way so well. I didn’t stumble once, though my heart was pounding.

When I got to Jasper’s door, I rapped lightly and then tried the knob, but it wouldn’t open. So I knocked harder, and almost immediately, Jasper’s face popped into view, behind the makeshift curtain she’d fashioned out of a towel. She looked excited.

“Hang on!” she said, and I heard a funny rasping, dragging sound before the door opened to let me into the twinkle-light fairyland of the Vine Realm at night.

“What was all that?” I asked, stepping into the kitchen. “That awful noise?”

Jasper motioned to two big cinder blocks and a piece of wood. “It’s not perfect,” she said. “But the door doesn’t lock, and so I rigged this up. Just in case someone tries to come in at night when I’m sleeping.”

“Like who?” I asked, setting down my bag.

“Anyone,” said Jasper. “There’s literally nobody I want surprising me in the night.”

“Right, but who would want to come in?” I asked. “Who would be here at night? Or in the day? Nobody even knows about this place. I’ve lived here all my life, and I didn’t know about it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Jasper. “The police, looking for runaways. Or some scary dude hiding from the police.”

“Wow,” I said. “I guess I hadn’t thought about any of that.”

“There’s a lot of people who sleep outside,” said Jasper. “I can’t be the only one who knows about this place. I’m sure other homeless people would love my setup. I mean, look at it!”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking about all the homeless people who shuffled around the hipster shops and bars in East Atlanta on the weekends, asking for spare change. I thought about the tired-looking men who stood by the on-ramp to the interstate with their signs that read Will Work for Food God Bless. “I guess you’re right. I just hadn’t thought about you that way.”

“Well, that way is what I am,” said Jasper.

“Kind of,” I said. “But not really. I mean, you have a sister.”

“Don’t you think most homeless people have a sister?” asked Jasper. “Or a brother or a mother or a father or a kid?”