the usual bustling activity of clients coming and going.

On her bookshelf, between the files, photographs, and general office clutter, is an informal shrine to friends who died during their time here. Some of the ashes are kept in wooden boxes, made by the shelter's wood shop. Others are in colourful ceramic vases brought from home by the staff. These are the remains of people who, as part of their final wishes, asked to be kept at the Drop-In centre.

727 unclaimed cremated remains are sitting on shelves in NS funeral homes. (CBC)

This place, this building, is not just somewhere to be — to stay warm and get a regular meal. It's community. It's a kind of family. A place to belong for the marginalized in society.

"They have fallen onhard times," says Newman. "They have made bad choices but they want to be accepted and make amends. Sometimes they just don't. Time is not on their side"

Ron, the man in the box, was a member of this community.

He showed up at the shelter during the downturn in 2008, says Newman. Ron had lost his job and his place at a residential hotel. So, he was hired at the centre as part of a work program, and lived there in an on-site apartment.

For many years Ron was part of the community — making friends and offering kindness to visitors. And then he got cancer.

Newman says the centre supported Ron in his final months. Knowing he would soon die, Ron wanted to give something back to his community.

An informal