The air was cold as ice. A little boy wearing his flour packet coat, crouching and shivering with cold in a small corner on the dirty street holding a huge bundle of newspaper and a small box of gum. How much he wanted to be in one of those houses that the rich families lived in. He once had a home. He once had parents had siblings.

His hands froze, his palms becoming the hues of blue and purple. “I hate men. My dad deserved to die like he did.” He thought. He started to remember his dad fighting 5 armed men while he was drunk as a puddle of mud. He drained our money by buying beer and cigarettes, and he didn’t even work for the money he used. All he did was drink, sleep, and fill the room with nasty black smoke while he smoked. What we could do was work. My mother worked, my sister worked, I worked. I sympathize with women; my dad abused my mother almost every day. “They are always the one hugging their child and sitting by the streets like I am.” He thought. A tear trickled downwere sitting on the sidewalks. He once had a small cabin with at least a bed, but that was where his father always slept so he refused to sleep there. There was this one day where he was so desperate that he had sold the cabin away just so he had the money to buy himself some bread. The baker always every time the boy touched anything, just like the boy would make his beautiful shop dirty just by being there. Though the boy didn’t notice. When he left the shop stuffing his face with bread, he saw a small family, though also with a father. The mother had a boy and a girl, all weak and hopeless. The boy though his own mother and siblings. They were in the same situation, and they were also desperate for food. So, the boy decided to give the three people some bread. They’ve been gone ever since. Some say they got a job and got a really rich and nice husband. Memories started to flash by the boy’s eyes as his body started to slide down into a lying position. Though the sidewalk was covered in frost and colder than ice, the boy felt warm, finally warm, as though he was in his mother’s arms. “Mother.” The boy said faintly. “Boy! Wake up! He heard a women cry as she tried to shake the boy awake. It was the rich woman he once helped. The boy opened his eyes to see a beautiful women wearing all kinds of jewelry. However, the boy still closed his eyes. He let go and felt like he was suddenly really light. He started to float up into the air, into the brightness and warmth. He saw his mother. Though she was not as rich as the women now below, she was still the one the boy preferred to be with.

He and his mother walked up the tower together to the small soup shop.