He was 55, with a shaved head, new pale stubble just starting to show. He wore small black glasses that contrasted with his skin, which was blanched. He had on a Star Wars T-shirt, size XXXL. On his lower half he wore athletic shorts and a fanny pack that contained his cell phone charger, his glucose monitor, and a Ziploc bag of change. His cheekbones on the thin face stood in stark relief to the rest of him, all of him below the neck, which hung downward—the skin sagging from his arms and calves, the vestiges of his former life.