Cold, unforgiving wind batters against my patchwork coat as I shove my way through crowded streets. Tiny snowflakes glitter on my eyelashes and my breath freezes as soon as it hits the air. Heat radiates from tiny shops advertising for the Christmas season. Children run towards the windows, fogging them up with their greasy hands and warm breath. Their parents follow, ready to do anything at their beck and call. I turn away, feeling a hollow pit form in my stomach.
A little girl brushes past me, auburn braids flying free. She looks too much like Maggy.
My Maggy.
I blink my eyes rapidly and look in the other direction. There are too many people, I think, trying to return to the task at hand. I’ll have to return at dusk.
Suddenly, a glint of silver catches my eye. I turn swiftly and scan the ground. There! To the left of the manhole. It was a small, round sixpence, halfway buried in the snow. Forgotten. I look at it greedily; that sixpence could mean a difference between hunger and good fortune. I start making my way towards it, tentatively. This was almost too good to be true. Maybe I don’t have to complete the task after all, I think.
As I reach out, my eyes meet those of a small girl. Her hair is matted and oily, her eyes large and wet from crying. She is covered only in rags, her dress old and too small. She has no coat to keep her warm and looks like she is about to pass out from the cold, hunger, or both. With shock, I realize that I must look just as poor as she does. My hands shake. I need that coin.
I grab the sixpence from the snow, holding it close to my chest. The girl makes no sound, but stares at me sadly with her big eyes. If I take this, she might not survive. I think hesitantly. If I don’t, I will be hungry tonight, my legs shake from hunger and fatigue. I close my eyes and clutch the coin. She needs this more than I do.
I open my eyes, still holding the sixpence. The girl turns away, resigned. I think I see a tear slip down her cheek. She begins to walk away into the cold and snow.
“Wait,” I say, my voice hoarse. “You can have this.” I hold out the coin, my frostbitten fingers painfully clenched around its smooth surface. The girl turns around slowly to face me. She reaches out and plucks the coin from my shaking hand. Her face lights up in a quick smile as she holds it close. With the coin in her hand, she looks stronger and less hungry. I tilt the corners of my mouth up in a partial smile for her benefit, even though my heart is breaking on the inside. The girl nods at me in thanks, then disappears into the bustling crowd.
Gone.