I stood in the shadow of the church watching the slow drawl of people coming in and out of the little building. There was a warm friendliness to the air but you could feel the faint reminisces of dirt and grime. Every now and then you'd see one touched by drugs or sex and it made me sick.
So sad how we come to these things.
The aroma drifting from the pale yellow lights across the street was some sort of stew again. Anything that was easy... Nobody wanted to make too much effort after all. My stomach growled and I contemplated getting the sorry man's meal but hesitated, and I don't know why. Perhaps because I still had a few cents in my pocket. Perhaps because, I knew exactly where my wallet was. I'd just have to break into my own house to get it back.
I wasn't going back there. Not formally.
I was suddenly startlingly aware of the the girl sitting on the curb, her knees held right close to her body while she held out her arms. Whether she was gazing at them or the road, I did not know, but she looked odd in her position, barely moving. Her light, chocolate hair was pulled back into a loose bundle at the back of her head and the loose strays would dance with the wind gently. I couldn't see her face... But something about her made me curious. I stood my ground and stayed in the shadows, still watching her, until i heard a faint whistling advancing. It was slightly out of tune but sounded relatively happy nonetheless. The whistling died out and a young boy, probably a couple years younger than me, dropped to the curb beside the girl with a bag.
"Now, I got some bread Else, and that Tom guy gave me a thermos of hot chocolate for us both" The boy smiled and got the shining silver canister out of the bag, finally looking at her properly. His face immediately dropped, looking extremely sad and tired. She must be sleeping? I thought. I left my post and went to sit beside the boy. He was startled by my presence and obviously didn't realise I was a few feet from him.
"What's your name?" I asked quietly. He sighed and was quiet for a few moments.
"Finch. M'name's Finch Jackson. Yours?"
"I'm Alistor. How come you're out here?" I already knew the answer.
"I 'aven't a home. We live off the streets."
"Me too..." I murmured. His face turned incredulous.
"No home? But you look like you're from a proper rich place." He said, eyeing my jacket.
"The streets are more comforting to be honest..."
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