Jess Salgueiro, Madelyn Chapman, Claudia Thiedmann, Almeria Campbell, Joyah Dominique, and Kim Yancey Photo by Carol Rosegg

With such minimal space between actors and audience, the very strong ensemble of director Liz Peterson's world premiere production presents an appropriately discomforting 80 minutes of theatre.

Scenic designer Josh Barilla places five chairs in the otherwise bare playing space. A slanted seat, a spiked back, and other barricades suggest the public fixtures designed to prevent anyone in need from having a comfortable sleep on them.

With a mixture of stories taken from the playwright's years of experience volunteering within the shelter system, Sheltered is structured in a manner similar to Greek drama, with a small chorus of women commenting on their everyday survival techniques while trying to find some stability in their lives.

"You gotta try pretty hard not to see me at all," advises a chorus woman (Joyah Dominique) at the outset, a commentary on how decreased funding to resolve homelessness results in increased visibility of those who may have suddenly found themselves unemployed, been slapped with exorbitant medical bills, or have run out of other people's couches to sleep on after escaping an abusive situation.

Another chorus woman (Madelyn Chapman) describes the effort needed to look nice and blend in so she'll be offered a free sample of a snack at the supermarket. Another (Claudia Thiedmann) endures the frustration of trying to find a place that will cash her meager paycheck without ripping her off. Another (Kassandra Cruz) talks of finding a sympathetic bus driver who won't expect sex in exchange for being allowed to ride in the back all day and get some warm sleep.

The choral leader, in a way, is Cassie (Almeria Campbell), a mentally challenged storyteller who introduces us to the play's main setting, a church basement that holds a daily lottery where winners can spend the night on one of their limited number of cots before waking up to a Pop-Tart breakfast.

Martha (Jess Salgueiro) is one of two volunteers who spends the night taking care of any disturbances that may arise. When a pair of police officers arrive to investigate a 911 call, one complains that there are people scamming the system for free handouts.

"Be a nice trick, wouldn't it," says the college educated Penelope, "tell a fake homeless woman from a real one."

"I have a master's degree and I have not showered in three days," she notes after once again being told she's overqualified at a job interview.

The central story involves Martha's hope to find her missing mother Helen (Monica Steuer) while volunteering at the church outreach center and convince her to live in her home. Some may see Helen's refusal to go with her daughter as her taking advantage of resources that might be used to help someone else, but there are other issues at hand.

"Half of these women have family right here in town," says Helen. "Some of them, their family doesn't want 'em, some of them don't want their family."

While I'm no expert on homelessness, my years working in volunteer relations at New York Cares offered me many opportunities to speak with people in the shelter system, both workers and their clients. The play's situations and Wiley's dialogue absolutely ring true to me, especially when an oblivious, well-off woman (Cruz) who hasn't made any effort to find out the outreach center's actual needs, comes in unannounced with a collection of used designer clothes to donate for a tax receipt.

The play's strength is in its bluntness. There are no pleas for sympathy, just matter-of-fact depictions of reality. Though you might think of the women experiencing homelessness as bonding into a community, in one telling scene, where they're eating their slice of Velveeta on white bread lunches, it's brought up how they are in competition with each other for whatever services are available. The play is informative without being overly didactic, making it all the more effective theatre.

General admission seating for Sheltered is offered on a sliding scale, starting as low as $25. However, the cell theatre's website states that they are prepared to offer seats to anyone who is experiencing financial hardship and finds the ticket price a barrier to entry.