The night in New York City was unforgiving, the biting chill seeping into every corner of the concrete jungle. The temperature hovered around 4° Celsius, and the streets were sparsely populated, with only the desperate and the lost wandering aimlessly in the cold. Among them was a young woman, her frail body barely protected by the thin, worn jacket she wore over a skimpy black outfit. Mars Lambert, as she was known, had once been a beacon of beauty, with short, vibrant hair and a light in her eyes that could outshine the city's brightest neon signs. But now, her hair hung long and unkempt, her skin pale from malnutrition, and her eyes, bloodshot and tired, reflected the harshness of the world she had fallen into.
Each step she took was a struggle, her legs shaking beneath her. The cold gnawed at her exposed skin, and she sneezed repeatedly, wiping her nose with a trembling hand before brushing the snot on her skirt. Her teeth chattered as she pressed on, ignoring the pain and exhaustion that threatened to overtake her. Tonight, like every other night, she had sold her body for survival, catering to the fleeting desires of strangers in exchange for a few crumpled bills.
Yesterday, she had earned $80, barely enough to buy a loaf of bread, a can of beer, and a pack of cigarettes. But tonight, fortune—or rather, the pity of her clients—had been kinder. She had managed to make $150, a small victory in a life filled with defeats. With the money, she bought another can of beer for herself, a bottle of juice, and a small bag of chips. The chips were not for her but for someone she cared about far more than herself.
She made her way to a damp, narrow alleyway, tucked away from the main streets, where the city's lights barely reached. In the shadows, a little boy, no older than ten, sat huddled against a wall. His clothes were thin, too light for the winter air, and his small body shivered uncontrollably. Mars had met Jake almost a year ago, both of them finding solace in the same alleyway, and since then, they had become inseparable. In a world where they had nothing, they found everything in each other.
"Hey, Jake," Mars whispered as she approached, her voice raspy but carrying a warmth that no cold could extinguish. She knelt beside him, shrugging off her jacket and draping it over his tiny shoulders. The jacket was hardly enough to keep anyone warm, but it was better than nothing. Jake looked up at her with wide, grateful eyes, his lips trembling as he tried to speak.
"You—you'll freeze, Mars," he stammered, his voice small and hoarse. Mars simply smiled, brushing a hand through his messy hair, and handed him the bottle of juice and the bag of chips.
"I've handled worse," she replied, her tone light, as if she hadn't a care in the world. But Jake wasn't fooled. He knew the bruises that marred her skin, the scars she tried to hide. He knew the dangers she faced every night, the risks she took just to ensure they could survive one more day.
"Were they... were they rough with you tonight?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. The concern in his eyes made Mars' heart ache, but she wouldn't let him see her pain.
"No, shrimp," she said, ruffling his hair again, a playful grin tugging at her cracked lips. "I'm tougher than I look. Besides, look what I got us." She nodded toward the chips and juice, trying to shift the focus away from her. Jake opened the bag of chips with a smile that was all too rare on his face these days, and Mars watched him eat, feeling a warmth in her chest that the beer she sipped couldn't provide.
For a while, they sat in silence, the sounds of the city a distant hum in the background. The wind howled through the alley, but for a moment, Mars and Jake felt safe, cocooned in their small world. They didn't need words; their presence was enough. Mars knew that she had little to offer Jake—a broken jacket, a bottle of juice, and a bag of chips—but she also knew that in their world, it was everything.
As the night wore on, Mars felt the cold creeping deeper into her bones. She had given up her jacket, but she didn't regret it. Jake's health was more important than her own. She watched him drift off to sleep, the chips forgotten beside him, and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to conserve what little warmth she had left. Her thoughts wandered as she sat there, staring up at the narrow strip of sky visible between the towering buildings. The stars were hidden behind thick clouds, but she imagined them there, shining brightly, just out of reach.
"Mars Lambert," she whispered to herself, testing the sound of her name in the stillness of the night. It felt foreign on her lips, like a name from another life. A life where she had a home, a family, a future. But that life was gone, and all that remained was this—an endless struggle to survive, one cold night after another.
But as she looked at Jake, bundled up in her jacket, she knew that it wasn't all for nothing. In the darkness, in the cold, she had found a purpose. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep her going, enough to give her the strength to face another day.
And so, as the night deepened and the city slept, Mars Lambert sat beside the boy she had come to love like family, sipping her beer and listening to the sound of his breathing, steady and calm. It was just another cold night in NYC, but for Mars, it was a night that mattered.
In their world of misery, they found a flicker of warmth—a flicker that kept the darkness at bay, if only for a little while.
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