On a grey day, a homeless man named Lucky shambled into an alley behind an expensive restaurant, the ache in his belly calling him to the Dumpsters to mine for food. He opened the nearest one and saw hacked-off limbs, torsos, and rotted coils of entrails stacked to the top of the bin. Among the jumble of unnamed limbs, a few heads bearing the pouched eyes and matted hair of fellow vagrants. Lucky's eyes locked with theirs and he knew why the shelters have been so empty lately. Lucky left the alley, never to return.