Friday, 9 December 2016

Cold on Christmas Eve | Written by Michael Whitehouse

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It should have been the perfect Christmas Eve. A thick layer of snow had floated down gently from the sky all day. Wishing my colleagues at the office a Merry Christmas, I put on my long winter coat and scarf, and walked out into the snow. It crunched beneath my feet, and as it did so I was reminded of being a kid; of how special it was when the snow came. Then I thought about my own two kids back at home, waiting for me with my wife. That made me smile... That was... Until someone grabbed hold of my arm from a darkened doorway.

I recoiled at the sight of a homeless man in front of me, his face worn and grey, no doubt from countless nights sleeping in the cold; and his long matted beard gave both the impression and stench that he hadn’t bathed in an age.