The Graffiti Artist In The Anonymous Trailer Factory

It was cold, on that November morning. Knowing that, I pulled on my coat and mittens and threw a scarf in my bag along with my vintage Polaroid camera and sketchbook. I ran out the door, knowing exactly where I was going. I sprinted the few blocks to the old trailer factory, my bag flopping against my side. Once I got there, I stopped to catch my breath. I was frozen, today being 39 degrees and all. Maybe, I thought, leggings weren’t the best idea today. I thought back to my warm home, my slippers, my flannel pajamas. But no, I needed inspiration for my next project. I had major creative blockage and decided to go look at the graffiti in the abandoned trailer factory. At that exact moment, I remembered I forgot my flashlight at home. I didn't
As I turned back to look at the position of the sun, so I could see how long until nightfall, I saw someone enter the building. I darted back inside and tried to follow the quiet sound of breathing. There was something else though, much louder. Was it spray paint? Had I found a graffiti artist? My breaths became short and choppy, This is a criminal! I thought. I heard footsteps walking down the stairs opposite me. Poking my head in the room I thought too hear him in, I saw an odd symbol. It resembled a compass, with coordinates around the outside. I quickly pulled out my phone and Googled them. Oddly they were in my town, Chicago. Punching them into my phone’s GPS, I ran as fast as I could to the exact location of them. It was about ten blocks away from the factory, so a very long
He was wearing a jean jacket splattered with paint, black ripped skinny jeans, and weathered combat boots. His shoulder-length dark purple hair was messy and shaved off in a star design on one side.
“Hello,” he said “have you come because of the latest sign?”
“What do you mean?” I asked “I was at the trailer factory and saw your coordinates on the wall, then followed them here.”
“We could use some help,” he said “as today is exceptionally busy.”
“What do you need help with? Who are you, anyway?” I rapidly asked him.
“My name is Jaxon Beuxbon, you can call me Jax.” he said. “I help the homeless find shelter for the night, and give them a nice meal. The coordinates are so they know where to come. People go to hotels for the night and let me use their home for shelter.”
“Oh, my name is Annabel Enland,” I said “I’d love to help you, what do you need?”
“We need someone to serve dinner while I put up more signs,” said Jax “are you up for it?”
“I’d love to”
“Thanks”
Jax grabbed a bag and jogged out the door.
“Who wants dinner?” I shouted after walking over to the pot of soup.

Later, after everyone was asleep, Jax walked me home.
“Why do you do this?” I