I slowly regain consciousness, and stumble my way to the apartment laundry room. I flop to the floor and lean up against a washing machine. My body battered and aching, I cry out, “God, please help me!” 

Some stranger finds me in the laundry room. He has a soft kind voice. He places a hamburger and drink on my lap and says, “Eat.” Then he adds, “You need to get free of the drugs, or they will kill you, and God is the way.” And just as fast as he appears he disappears. 

I wonder, “Was that an angel or some kind person? But I know what he said is right.” 

I down the food and drink, my head starts to clear, I start working my way home. As I’m cutting across Wells Park I send-up a harried prayer. “God, if you are real, please do something. I need help!”