Winter's Angel

August 6, 2012
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The winter chill send a shiver down Lorenzo’s spine as the snowflakes slowly feel to the snow-covered ground. The only light casting on the dark, urban streets was that of the winter moon and streetlights which seemed to be carefully guiding Lorenzo to a warm, significant place for the night. Without any knowledge of the area, he allowed the lighting to lead him on.

Snowcapped houses glittered in the moonlight as Lorenzo’s last sense of hope to find somewhere warm slowly began to drift away from his uncovered head. Without any defined home, he never really seemed to stay in one spot whether it be a random building no longer in use or a darkened alleyway with the slightest presence of fire, which appeared to be the closest thing to a friend he could have.

“Hello,” a voice startled Lorenzo, “no need to be jumpy. I won’t hurt you.”

Lorenzo turned to see no one face to face with him. Slowly he began to turn back around and than continued up the street.

“Down here, mister!”

Lorenzo again turned around but this time slightly lowered his head. Surprised, Lorenzo raised an eyebrow at the sight of a little girl without a coat presented before him. Out of sheer disbelief, Lorenzo wiped his eyes and opened them to still see the little girl standing before him.

“My name’s Anna,” the little girl informed him. She held out her small hand expecting Lorenzo to shake it.

Without response, Lorenzo turned away from the child and continued, once again, up the street.

“Wait up, mister!” Anna chased after him. This time Lorenzo didn’t turn around to face the girl or even stop moving. He just continued his journey up the street as Anna followed.

“Where are you going, mister?” Anna asked him. Lorenzo did not answer nor did he even gesture.

“Are you going home?” Anna asked another question. This time Lorenzo made a full stop and turned to face the child. He studied her shoulder-length brown hair and her patterned orange dress.

“Do you HAVE a home, mister?” Anna began to figure him to be homeless. With this question, Lorenzo lowered his head as a tear broke free from his normally dry eyes.

In assurance by his appearance, Anna began speaking again, “There’s a nice family around the corner up ahead. They live in a small blue house and love letting people sleep over when they have no mommy or daddy to go home to. I’m sure they could help you, mister.”

The little girl calmly waved goodbye as she skipped down the street away from Lorenzo toward the night sky’s full moon. He stood there and watched as the darkness soon engulfed her fully as if she had disappeared. Lorenzo wiped his eyes as a question began to float through his head. What was such a young girl doing outside at midnight? He ignored his thoughts and continued up the street.

Unlike earlier, Lorenzo decided to make an unscheduled stop at the house that little Anna had mentioned. As he approached the corner, the small, blue house Anna had mentioned was easily noticed. Without hesitation, Lorenzo headed toward the house realizing that this may be his only chance to be somewhere warm on this brutal, winter night.

“Hello. How can I help you?” a short lady about 40 years old answered the door. Her hair was long and dark. She wore a night gown designed with colorful flowers that jumped off and comforted Lorenzo.

Uncomfortable to speak, Lorenzo stared at the lady hoping she didn’t ask anymore questions.

Within a few seconds of studying Lorenzo’s torn clothing and unshaven face, the pleasant women invited him inside of the house.

“Please, sit down. I’ll make you some tea,” the women offered. A man dressed in dirty jeans and an oil stained t-shirt sat across from Lorenzo in a reclining chair reading the daily newspaper. He quickly noticed Lorenzo and began to fold his newspaper and put it on the table next to him. He than folded his glasses and hooked the end of them on his shirt.

“What’s your name, sport?” the man asked Lorenzo. He didn’t respond. Instead, Lorenzo stared at the man, again, hoping he would not be asked for his name anymore.

“I’ll make you a deal,” the man began as he pulled a pen and a piece of paper from his pocket, “if you can write down your name on this piece of paper, I’ll tell you MY name.”

Lorenzo slowly but surely reached for the pen and began to spell out his name in a form of impressive script:


“Lorenzo, eh? My name’s Harold, but you can call me Harry ‘cause that’s what everyone knows me by. Besides that, I must say, your handwriting is rather impressive. It’s quite obvious you have some education in your background,” the man began complimenting him as the women that answered the door entered the room with a tray that had three cups and a pot of what looked and smelled like tea.

“Our friend Lorenzo here doesn’t seem to be much of a talker, dear,” Harry informed who seemed to be his wife.

“Oh, his name’s Lorenzo? Hello, Lorenzo. You can call me Beth,” the woman generously smiled. She poured tea into a cup and handed it to Lorenzo. After taking his first sip, Lorenzo’s eyes seemed to be stuck on a picture on the table next to Harry’s recliner. Beth and Harry turned to see what Lorenzo was looking at. After realizing, Beth picked up the picture with a smile as her eyes seemed to become glassy.

“This is our daughter. She was only 8 years old when we lost her to pneumonia. She caught it a few years ago when she snuck outside to play in the snow and didn’t wear a coat. We were all sleeping because it was back when we went to bed around midnight. Ever since she passed, Harry and I pledged to give people all we can to keep them warm during such harsh winters like this,” Beth informed Lorenzo.

Lorenzo’s eyes widened as he recognized the orange patterned dress the little girl wore in the picture.

“Anna,” Lorenzo spoke for the first time on this cold night.

“Y-yes. How’d you know, Lorenzo?” Beth asked with a shaky voice.

Lorenzo smile and answered confidently, “Lucky guess, I suppose.”

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