Goldilocks was just her street name, picked up over the years due to her unusually golden tresses. Most homeless cling to artifacts from their old lives; coats, ties, little trinkets which could easily be pawned for cash; with Goldie, it was her hair. Once a week she would pay the lady on 5th street to curl it into those bouncy locks as she sat there, her stomach growling and her pockets still empty. Everyone was surprised when they saw it on the news; not because some homeless girl was shot trying to rob a house, no. It was because of those shimmering golden locks that peeked from beneath a black tarp, rushing past the cameras like a glint of sunlight.

“My god,” they said, “She must have been beautiful.”