Wind rushes past pedestrians, whipping up hair, coats, shirts, skirts, and scarves. A few girls give a surprised squeal, but otherwise the murmuring of passersby's goes on uninterrupted. Amongst the crowd is a man, around 30, with black hair and bright blue eyes. His hair and grey suit are equally disheveled. The stubble on his chin itches, but his hands are tucked under his arms. His body shivers slightly with each breeze and gust that comes his way. His black shoulder bag hangs at his side, worn, torn, and with the button missing off the front. He glances at those he passes by and the shops that surround him, but never stops to say a word.
As he walks along a road lined with trees, he finds himself regularly brushing leaves off his head. Their warm colors can't change the chilled air. Ahead of him he sees a woman with two boys. The children are only around five or six, and their bright smiles seem to finally bring some much needed warmth to the day. The two boys run ahead of the woman, laughing and giggling as they jump to catch leaves before they hit the ground. The man smiles softly as he watches the frivolous play. As he passes them by he gives a nod to the woman, and she nods back, with a tired smile on her face.
Further along the trek he sees a family of four, slowly exiting a shop. The 11-year-old daughter is crying as she holds her father's hand. Behind them is a 16-year-old boy, being scolded by his mother. The boy is dressed in all black, though his shirt has a white design on it. The clothes look clean, but well worn. All of the family's clothes look this way. His arms are crossed, and he rolls his eyes as his mother speaks. The girl continues to cry, her tears unrelenting, but the only expression on her brother's face is one of annoyance. As he walks past the family, the father begins to yell. He looks away from them, but not before spotting the white wristband on the teen's arm. In black letters, it simply says 'HOPE'. He glances at the stop they group had come out of. It's a secondhand book store. He chances a look back at the group, and spots the bag in the mother's hand. He sees several books peeking out of it, including one with a chemical formula on the cover. He looks back to his path though, leaving the family behind.
On he goes, along the busy streets. The clouds hang over the heads of the people, casting ominous shadows. The man slowly moves closer to a café, where he sees a young couple is seated outside. They're bundled up, with empty plates and steaming cups. The two laugh together as the woman stands. She walks to towards the door of the café, and the moment she enters it, the young man pulls out his wallet. He opens it, and though the walker can't see his face, he can see the single 5 dollar bill. The young man runs his fingers through his hair as he stares at the mostly empty space. The walker stops. He observes the young man for a moment, then he reaches into his own pocket, and pulls out a brown, leather wallet. He opens it, pulls out a pair of $20 bills, puts his wallet away, then continues walking. As he passes by the table, he reaches over and places the money on it. Without looking, without stopping, he leaves the cash behind and continues on his way, a smile on his lips.
As his back aches, and his legs and feet begin to protest, the shops quickly disappear from the man's eyes. Before him lies home after home, with laughing children, sour adults, and teenagers blasting their music. The noise rolls past the man though, as his steps quicken, though ever so slightly. Down the streets he goes, passing the world by. He sees wilted gardens, unattended by anyone except the cold. Brightly colored leaves litter the ground, and the occasional cat or dog can be seen walking through its yard, oblivious to its surroundings. On he goes, past the many homes, the many families, and the many lives of others, until, finally, his walk dramatically slows. A warm, grateful smile plays on his lips as he approaches a simple, two story home. The short, wooden fence that greets him is painted a plain white, and stone slabs that lead up to the front door, together with his shoes, makes a calm, quiet sound. It's so light that the man hardly hears it as he walks past the grass that's already an inch too tall, and the toys that lay scattered about the yard.
The man grabs the handle of the door, and the cold metal stings his hand. Still, he grips it tightly and turns it. Slowly, he opens the door, and the warmth rushes past him. He enters the silent home, quickly shutting the door behind him, and takes off his shoes, leaving them by the door. He continues on, his movements slow, gentle. He peaks through a corridor, and sees, sitting on a couch, is a woman. Her short brown hair looks neat, though frizzy, and her clothes are stained, but still beautiful. On either side of her, with their heads resting in her lap, are two children. A boy, about 5, and a girl, about 3. The man grabs his bag and pulls it off as he walks into the room. The woman looks at him, a tired smile on her face. He sets his bag on a coffee table, but continues on to the woman. When he reaches her he leans down and gently presses his lips against hers. After he pulls away, he leans down further and lightly kisses the foreheads of the two children. With the tips of his fingers he gently strokes their cheeks. He then looks at the woman again, and the two simply smile at each other. The man kisses the woman once again, then he turns and heads back out of the room.
His movements are slow and tired as he makes his way to a set of stairs. He walks up them. Each step is heavy, but still, a gentle smile persists on his lips. Up he goes, and then down a hallway, and into a bedroom. He pulls his jacket off, then his tie, tosses both onto the foot of the bed. Finally, the man falls onto his bed. He buries his face in his pillow, and wiggles his toes. For several moments he lies like that, but then he turns onto his side. His eyes fall onto his nightstand, where he sees a lamp, a box of sorted junk, and a single picture. As he closes his eyes, the final image he sees is the photo by his bed. Four people, smiling, huddled together, with snow jackets on, and some rosy coloring in their cheeks. The woman is holding the girl, and the man is holding the boy. Snow is falling around them, and in the background more people can be seen, but the warmth from the family is all the man sees as he slowly drifts off to sleep.
