Angel of the Look Back

Dan stopped outside the shelter and took a deep breath. His lungs filled with heavy wet air. He watched as the leaves of the trees around him blew softly back and forth preparing for the stronger winds ahead. He hated the rain, had for a long time. Formative years spent on the streets were hard enough when it was bitter cold or depressively hot, but for those with no shelter rain made everything worse, unbearably humid in the summer and cold to the bone in the winter.

He shivered as he descended the stairs. It was cold now, probably in the fifties. When the rain came it would be colder. At least he would stay warm and dry tonight. He was lucky to have found a shelter with a free bed in this part of town. It wasn’t much, but it was a bed and a locker, better than living between two dumpster in an alley for the last year and a half.

He pulled his windbreaker tight around him and walked the ten blocks to the only diner in the neighborhood. He stood on the cracked sidewalk in front of the run down greasy spoon, scanning the pavement for errant coins. Pacing back and forth, he smiled as he caught sight of a quarter in the gutter near a parking meter.