A Final Call on Track 15, Clearly Heard
HE woke up, or came to, in that cardboard cubbyhole he and other homeless men shared beneath the platform of Track 15 at Penn Station. And for some reason, he just knew it: He was done. Looking back over a hard life of nearly 60 years, some blocks of time seemed as blurry as a bar counter seen through the bottom of a bottle. Other periods, though, were as sharp as broken glass.
