She was cold. It wasn't a surprise though, it was mid-November and her coat had plenty of rips and tears in it. She wouldn't get rid of it though even if it was July, it gave her security.
It was ratty, stained, and smelled of blood and urine but she wouldn't give it up for anything. Through getting evicted, the coat was there.
Through every lonely night spent in the alleyway, the coat was there. Through that time the dealer turned out to be a cop, the coat was there.
And when she got out, like a good friend, it was there.
Now though, the years were showing critically and each hole mocked her pale skin with cold wisps of wind. She curled up tighter behind the dumpster.
She looked out past it to see the bustling street with people who were on their cell phones or grumbling about the barista getting their order wrong.
She leaned back into the darkness and put her head against the back outer-wall of the coffee house. She was starving, cold, and lonely.
She was unable to go into the coffee house though because of the rattiness of her coat. She was asked to leave last time before she was able to ask to use the washroom.
Looking to her right, opposite the street, she sees two men in dark hoodies meeting.
A handshake that, as experience told her, would have traded more than just niceties was given and the two parted ways.
The one went back the direction he came but the other person walked towards the street.
Passing the balled up girl by the dumpster, the dealer or the dealt (it was still unclear who was who), said nothing and sneered at the sight of her and her stained jacket.
She had the feeling of worth run out of her. Not even the druggies liked her. She reached her hand into her pocket and felt around for a piece of paper.
It wasn't there so she checked her other pocket. Success.
The paper was an old, worn photo. In the photo was her mother, father and her.
She was just a baby at the time the photo was taken, although not many people would say she was less of a child now. She stared at the two adults and smiled briefly.
Suddenly there was something on the glossy surface. She didn't know what it was at first. Then it hit her, a snowflake. The first one she had seen this winter.
She looked at her bloodied, ratty, stained coat and all the holes, rips and tears that were in it.
Her skinny frame would be warm in the coat if it didn't get any colder but she knew how these winters were and this one was just beginning,
and thus she retreated within herself waiting for the fate that all men face.