Northern_Lights_2014

again. The girl raced up to the counter. Once she collected the cookie she hid it in her pocket. Then, she peered over to her mother, slowly inching her way to the door. When the coast was clear, she sneaked by her mother’s table and squirmed through a group coming in. The bell jingled and the group was welcomed. The girl, now outside in the cold, saw the man, hunched over. The snow was keeping a steady pace and no car was coming in or out. She ran across to him. Slowing her pace, until, she was right in front of him. He was clothed in a patched red coat. His jet black hair hid but flared outward from the knit hat he had on. Dirt and grease smudged and covered a fair amount on his tattered jeans and rain boots. The only part that wasn’t covered was his hands, which were being kept warm by the heated Styrofoam filled with coffee. ‘Does he not know I’m here?’ she thought. Turning her head she almost stumbled over. She regained her balance. Her boots bunched together and she stood tall like a soldier as she spoke, “Hello.” The man lifted his head. His face was young, covered by a good amount of facial hair. Eyebrows were bushy and his skin was all red from the cold. Deep set blue eyes that were murky, stared at the girl. She saw the cup of coffee. She turned back and back to him, “What are you doing with your coffee out here?” He took a sip and looked back down to the ground. Rubbing the cup with his fingers he mumbled, “Enjoying some snow.” “Oh . . . well here!” She dug in her pocket to retrieve the cookie. She placed it on the bench beside him and smiled. He didn’t say anything. He only kept sipping from his cup and looking down. “Hey,” the girl crossed her arms and began to pout at the man, “You’re supposed to say thank you when someone gives you something!” He looked back up, emotionless, “Thank you.” “You’re very welcome,” she muttered, beginning to kick her feet in the snow piles that formed. He watched her, adjusting himself. Again, she noticed his cup of coffee. “Don’t you want any cream or sugar in your coffee? Mother says it’s too strong for her to drink, so she adds a gazillion packets of sugar and like, a lot of crème.” “I like it black,” he stated. He again drank more from the Styrofoam as she blankly looked at him, “Black?” “That’s what it’s called when there is no crème or sugar in coffee.” “Oh, okay,” she readjusted her purple hat and began to skip around the man on the bench. “Why are you talking to me? Don’t think you should get back to your mother and father?” She stopped in front of him and looked at her favorite purple mittens. They were worn numerous times since her mother made them last year. “My father is at work right now. He’s a doctor. So it’s just my mother and me. We’re going to go He sighed, “That’s very nice, but you didn’t answer my question. Why, are you talking to me?” 18