Scraping the discarded chewing gum off the path I use it to stick the flimsy cardboard to the concrete corner. This stops the biting wind from enveloping me into its icy vortex. The frozen air is searing. I cannot feel my toes.
I push Max aside so I can reach the thrown pennies. Only a few today. I won’t make enough for the hostel tonight, where my meagre things will be stolen while I steal my own sleep.
That’s not all they rob.
They don’t always allow Max. He’s not mine, but he attached himself to my sorry legs one day – searching for warmth. Misguided mutt. No idea why he stays with me – I can’t feed him. He forages in the bags left behind the fast food place. Not ashamed to say I’ve stooped to some of his leftovers.
Lifesavers.
My front teeth are loose. So are Max’s. I can tell because when he licks my leg he knocks his teeth together making a clacking sound. If we weren’t homeless and freezing he’d be a funny dog.
The wind swirls the junk people throw. I’m getting better at catching the flying rubbish. I could insulate a house with their garbage. A house? Don’t think about that. My cardboard corner, people pretending not to see me, and the occasional pitying smile. That’s all I have.
Except for my guardian angel lady. Last week, she brought gloves and a scarf. They survived two hostel nights. The third, I ended up with large bruises where the wool used to be.
Today, my angel lady stopped and asked me how much more I needed to get inside for the night. ‘Four pounds,’ I said. ‘That’s ok, I won’t make it there tonight.’
She gave me four pounds. Four pounds! She touched my frozen hand. ‘Maybe a hot meal,’ she said. She knew.
When she left, I cried. Her kindness made me think, perhaps when I am gone, and this will be soon, someone will remember me? Maybe even miss me?
To know that I matter to one person is enough.
I’m freezing.
Max! You’re too heavy. Move your sorry self.
Max!
No!
Not Max.
Shit!
Published by Train Lit Magazine – January 2018
