The wind howled around us, relentless and unyielding, as we made our way down the empty street. My thoughts raced, trying to piece together a plan. Where could I take her? Who could help us at this hour?
“Do you remember your address?” I asked, hoping for a clue.
She shook her head again, the movement barely perceptible beneath her hood.
“It’s okay,” I said, squeezing her hand gently. “We’ll figure it out.”
We passed a row of houses, their windows aglow with the warm light of holiday festivities. Inside, families gathered, laughter and music spilling into the night as doors opened and closed.
But out here, it was just the two of us, and the cold seemed to deepen with every step.
I spotted a small diner up ahead, its neon sign flickering “Open 24/7.” It wasn’t much, but it was shelter, and the thought of a hot drink brought a flicker of hope.
“How about we stop in there for a bit?” I suggested, pointing toward the diner.
She nodded, her eyes following my gesture. I could tell she was getting tired, her little legs struggling to keep up.
We reached the diner and pushed through the door, a bell jingling overhead. The warmth was immediate, a welcome contrast to the outside world.
The place was nearly empty, a few late-night patrons nursing cups of coffee while a waitress wiped down the counter.
We took a seat in a booth near the window, and I ordered us both hot chocolates.
She cupped her hands around the mug, letting the steam rise up to her face, thawing her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice a little stronger now.
I smiled, relieved to see some color returning to her face. “No problem,” I replied, watching as she took a cautious sip.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
