He was sleeping on park benches when someone whispered, “Follow me.” Hours later, he had the keys to a tiny home.

For months, 58-year-old Michael Grant made the city park his bedroom. On cold nights, he layered jackets and tucked himself into a corner of a bench, hoping the wind wouldn’t bite too hard. Days were spent walking aimlessly, stopping at soup kitchens when he could, and trying to stay invisible to passersby. Once a skilled…