"What are we doing here?" I asked my work partner as I plunged the moisture meter into a moldy wall stud in a home that had barely survived the wrath of Hurricane Katrina. The front door swung with the breeze, inviting the steady rain into the house. Windowpanes dangled from their frames, threatening to shower glass shards onto the warped tile floors.
"We're doing good work," she smiled. Her inspiring words breathed new life into my efforts. An odd pair-- she, a middle-aged woman, and me, a teenage girl, we stood in the empty house, friends.