Cold colored the sky a fiery blue. It announced itself with a mischievous wind that snapped up the laundry on the line and scattered the leaves. The air was crisp and burned my nostrils, and my lips were cracked.
I am a long way from the grey church with the loud bells. My body is weary and stiff from the cold, while the wind teases my hair and pulls at my coat. I just want to stop moving. Sometimes, I’m plagued with the memories of a soft bed, and my hands wrapped around a warm body beneath the sheets.
Today I woke up on a spot on the ground. The clothes on my back are all I own. Yet another step I take as I follow the sound of the church bells ringing in the distance. People walk past me, huddled against the cold, scarfs leaving a trail behind as they rush to their homes.
I have no home. I go wherever my feet takes me. At night my bed is a doorway, and my hands wrap around my chilled body beneath my ratty coat. In the morning I’m chased away like a rabid dog. People act as if I’m another problem to deal with and some do not even care that I exist. Once I had everything but now I have nothing.
Photo credit: Pexels
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