LOS ANGELES — Jacob King holed up in his tent on the slope of a bluff overlooking the San Pedro Harbor, slumped over his knees, a cigarette wedged between scuffed fingers. It was deadline morning. City workers had posted signs saying this was the day that people in his camp had to leave.
King didn't feel like interacting and kept to the dim light of his nylon refuge, wondering if he'd get the shelter bed he said he signed up for a month ago or would he be told to move again.
The 39-year-old listened to the homeless camp come to life, a tent unzipping, a laugh, distant chatter, the crisp crack of a beer can opening.
