Tucker's house had burned down years ago, so he actually had nowhere to go. He looked around for a house to pretend to live at. He walked up to it, and rang the doorbell. He ordinarily wouldn't do that, but he wasn't paying much attention, and did it out of habit.
Tucker watched people walking around after he opened his eyes. He should be getting somewhere, pretending he had somewhere to go so that people wouldn't stare, but why? What was the point? He leaned against the rough bark of the tree, feeling it scratch his back.