There's not much seedier than the sight of the sun rising on a methadone clinic's early-morning trade. Everything about the scene screams shame, from the darkened predawn opening hours to the shaded, lifeless windows to the absence of identifying signage on the dingy, partly vacant brick building that anchors Houston Maintenance Clinic to an aggressively unrevitalized stretch of Main Street. Solitary clients trickle through the plate-glass entrance door and then re-emerge, a few minutes later, with suspicious glances up and down the street before ducking into waiting cars or shuffling off... More >>>