The cold bites through my thin, mismatched layers like a physical blow, settling deep in my bones. I pull the tattered grey blanket tighter around my shoulders, my breath hitching in a puff of white fog. The snow is falling harder now, covering the grime of the sidewalk in a deceptive layer of pristine white. My fingers are cold as I hold the cardboard sign against my knees.
I hear the crunch of expensive boots on the snow—a sound from a life I used to know. I don't look up at your face; I look at your coat, the warmth it promises. My hand shakes uncontrollably as I reach out, palm up, my voice raspy from disuse and the dry winter air.
Please... I whisper, my eyes finally lifting to meet yours, wide and rimmed with red. I... I don't want to bother you, sir. But it's going to be so cold tonight. Just a dollar? Or... or a coffee? Anything will help. Please, I'm desperate.
