“ Hey, you okay?”
“ Leave me alone. Please,” the man says. His teeth chatter and make his words come clacking out.
“ Name’ s Charlie,” says the woman.“ What’ re you doing out here in the storm?”
Silence. He turns to face her. Brown eyes, freckles, dark hair. He knows that his own eyes are puffy and ringed with red but he doesn’ t care. His bottom lip trembles again when she makes eye contact with him. Their breath mingles in the void between them. She holds an unlit cigarette in her left hand, rolling it between callused fingers. She looks at him and her eyes flit to his front pocket where the bulge of his gun is evident and then back to meet his gaze. He sees something there he recognizes.
“ Why do you want to do it?” Her voice is like a snowflake, carried on the cold to rest in his ear, lilting, but holding a soft edge.
He begins to cry again, unable to hold it in, dropping to one knee in the cold white powder in front of the stranger.
“ Never mind,” she says. She places a hand on his back. He doesn’ t recoil.“ It doesn’ t matter.” She lifts up the sleeve on her left hand. There are deep scars across her pale flesh.“ Doesn’ t much matter what I say. I know that.”
She slides the cigarette in between his trembling lips as he watches her, confused. She flashes him a sad smile and walks away. He watches her go, never rising from the powder.
Charlie walks for what seems like miles before she hears the crack of a gunshot across the still of the night. She walks three flights up some snowdusted steps and unlocks the door to her apartment, closing it behind her, shutting out the cold.
20