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Description
Cold.

It wasn't a sensation. It was a part of her. It was all that she was. That, and hungry. A tattered page from The Washington Post went scuttling by in front of her, pushed by the wind. She took a chance of losing her place on the warm grating and hurried to intercept it. The paper leapt this way and that; up and down, left and right. For one moment it seemed to just hang there in the air. She lunged, arms outstretched, landing square upon her chin on the pavement. Her hurt turned to elation as she looked to see the paper clutched firmly in her hand. She quickly picked herself up and scurried back to the grating. Her space was still there, marked by the steam that rose like a blessing from below. The others remained unmoving; asleep. At least she hoped they were asleep. In this weather, one remained unmoving for only two reasons: sleep and death. She risked losing her space once more and crept down to the other end of the grating. She knelt next to one of the prone figures and put her face next to his. It was the grizzled face of John the Gimp. He hadn't been doing too well lately: coughing up blood and throwing up most of what little he ate. She listened. Good. She could hear his breath come in low, raspy rumblings. A doctor would have been alarmed by what he heard. She was relieved. At least he was breathing, and around here, that was everything.

She began to head back to her spot and then stopped. She felt the newspaper in her hands and turned back to John. She walked back to him and gently covered him with the paper, tucking it in around him so it wouldn't blow away. Seeing that it was secure, she turned and hurried back to the other side of the grating and crawled on to her space. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the biting cold that was already starting to numb her feet. She thought about tomorrow. There was a large party at the State Department tonight. That meant lots of leftover food would be thrown out in the morning. She imagined that trash bin and felt a twinge of hope before sleep brought welcomed obliteration.

* * * *

She'd got there too late. It was only a little after 7:00, but the trash bin had already been picked clean of all the choice morsels. She spent about 15 minutes rummaging through what was left and miraculously managed to salvage a small bag of rolls that the others had somehow missed. She quickly stuffed the food into her coat.

She had just begun to cross 15th Street when suddenly, the screech of a car skidding shattered the cold air. She looked to her left to see a brown BMW skidding toward her. She watched it come calmly, until it finally stopped only a few inches from her. The horn beeped and wailed and she could see a blond woman behind the wheel yelling and shaking her fist at her. After a moment, when she was sure that there were no more cars coming from the other direction, she continued on across the street and headed on to where she knew John and the others would be huddled on the warm grating.

* * * *

It was colder today. She had decided to get an early start and it was still dark when she had started going through the garbage. So far she had found nothing but vegetable peelings. If it had been only herself she was hunting for, she would have given up an hour ago, but John needed to eat. He had gotten worse, hardly able to breath. She looked up at the brightening sky; people would be leaving for work soon. She forced herself to work faster and moved on to the next set of cans.

* * * *

"Mrs. Karen Sullivan?"

"Yes." She stood there in her bathrobe and slippers staring sleepily at the UPS man.

"Package for you. If you'd just sign here." the man said, handing her the package and holding the clipboard in front of her face. She signed. "Thank you. Have a nice day." The man turned and walked back to his truck.

Karen looked down at the package. It was from Bloomingdales. She couldn't remember what it was. She was always ordering things from there. She glanced idly at the UPS truck as it backed out onto the street. She began to close the door when she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. There was someone out by the garbage cans. She squinted through the glare that shone off the car port next door. It was one of those people. She felt the blood rush to her face. She dropped the package and ran down the walk.

"Get out of here!" she screamed. "Get out!" She was standing about ten feet away from the garbage cans and could see the dirty face of the woman peering out at her from behind the tattered towel that she used as a shawl. "How dare you!" The woman just stood there with bits of torn, greasy garbage in her hands. Karen rushed at her, infuriated. "Get out! Get out!" She pushed the woman, who stumbled and fell, spilling the garbage on the ground. Karen stood over her screaming, "Let go of that! That's my garbage! You have no right!" The woman rolled over, got onto her hands and knees, and slowly raised herself up. She steadied herself and then slowly began to walk down the driveway. Karen stood shaking and watched her shuffle away. "You better stay away from here!" she called after her, "If I ever see you again, I'll call the police!" She watched until the woman had rounded the corner.

She just couldn't believe this. It was bad enough that you saw them everywhere in the city, but did they have to come out here and ruin a nice, quiet neighborhood? Here she was, married to a top financial advisor to a powerful senator, two beautiful kids, a nice house, and she had to put up with this. And this wasn't the first time she had come across these people. Yesterday she had almost run one of them down. Some stupid, crazy woman jumped out in front of her car. She would probably have ended up in jail if she hadn't stopped in time.

She looked down at the garbage on the ground and swore. "Those damn people!" she muttered and turned and went inside to get a broom.

* * * *

It was a long walk back. She reached into her pocket and took out some cheese wrapped in wax paper that she had found just before the woman had come running out. Finding that cheese had made it all worthwhile. She smiled a little, thinking how happy John would be when he saw what she had; he loved cheese.

When she had returned to the museum she saw a crowd gathered near the grates. As she came closer, she could see that there were several paramedics huddled around someone on the grating. She managed to push her way through the throng and saw the paramedics tightening straps around someone on a stretcher. She couldn't tell who it was because their whole body, including the face, was wrapped tightly in a sheet.

She glanced around wildly. Where were the others? She saw some of them. John! Where was he? Was that him lying down at the other end of the grating? She hobbled over and knelt down next to the bundle of torn and tattered clothes. His back was to her and she leaned over to look at his face. Just then, there was a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Shelly standing there. "I tried waking him up, Ellen, but he just wouldn't." Her expression softened into one of compassion. "Its better this way. He couldn't get around. He couldn't even eat." Shelly's hand lingered on her shoulder for a brief moment, and then she turned and walked over to stand with the others and watch as the paramedics loaded John into the ambulance.

Ellen sat down and watched the steam that rose through the grate. From her pocket she drew the wax paper and slowly opened it. She stared at the little piece of cheese. It was small, about the size of quarter, but it was perfect; no mold, no dirt. She had been so careful with it that not even a speck of lint from her coat pocket had managed to mar it. She held it in her hands and admired it through the tears. It was perfect, she thought, how John would have loved it.

* * * *

It was warmer today. She didn't even need the newspapers to help her keep warm. She liked days like this. She could actually take the time to read the paper for a change. She had been lucky enough to get an entire paper last night and, after reassembling it, she began to read. She ignored the world and national news; it all seemed too far away to have any real meaning. Instead, she turned to the local news. That was something the affected her directly. That's how she had found out about the dinner at the State Department. It paid to keep an eye open for things like that.

She read an article about some Senate aide embezzling hundreds of thousands of dollars from a campaign fund. She was always amazed at how these people who had it all just couldn't get enough. She read:

Mr. James Sullivan, Senior Financial Aide to Senator Bob Kawolski, is being sought for allegedly hundreds of thousands of dollars from his boss's campaign. He is also being investigated for income tax evasion. Informed sources say that Mr. Sullivan has apparently fled town. A search at his Georgetown home turned up nothing. His family is apparently unaware of his whereabouts.

Wasn't that always the way? He was probably out of the country by now, living the good life somewhere.

She looked up. It was getting cloudy and it looked like rain. She had better get moving down to the overpass. She folded up the paper and stuffed it inside her coat and headed off, keeping a close eye on the gathering clouds.

* * * *

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to leave."

Karen looked desperately at the woman. "Please, I've got no where to go."

The woman asked, "I'm sorry, but you know the rules. Three weeks for singles."

Karen cried, "But I'm not single! I have two kids."

The woman looked around and said, "I don't see any kids."

"They're with my in-laws." she replied dejectedly.

"Well, why don't you go and stay with them?" asked the woman.

"They're in New York." she answered.

"Well then, I can allow you to make a collect call. Maybe they can help you."

Karen shook her head. "No, they won't help me. They hate me. They blame me for what my husband did. She was almost in tears.

"Why are you kids there then?"

"I had them with me in a shelter, after the government took everything for the taxes, but they couldn't go to school; they couldn't get enough to eat. Finally, I called his parents and told them what was happening. They said I could send the kids, but I'd have to stay here."

"Well, they're still your kids, they can't keep you from them."

"They said that if they so much as heard that I was in New York, they'd send the kids to live with my husband."

"And where is he?"

"I don't know. When the government came to take everything they told me that he was out of the country."

The woman felt sorry, but she had a job to do. "I'm truly sorry, but you have to go." She saw the look of utter dejection on Karen's face and added, "You can try coming back in a month or so, maybe some more places will open up." She gently took Karen's arm and led her to the door. "Good luck. And keep warm." she said.

Karen stepped out into the cold. It was snowing. She looked up and down the street. Any way was as good as another, she thought. She pulled her scarf close to her face and walked slowly up the street, looking down at the ground in front of her. She was afraid that someone she knew might see her in her dirty clothes. These were the only set that hadn't been lost or stolen and she had been wearing them for a month now. She knew that they must smell. At least she had managed to wash up at the shelter this morning.

She wandered for what seemed to be a lifetime. It was starting to get dark. She had to find a place to sleep soon. She was walking in front of the Museum of Natural History when she looked up and saw a family walking down the street. The mother and father were about her age. The children, a boy and a girl were about four and seven respectively. She saw them walking toward her laughing and playing with the souvenirs they had bought in the museum. She looked back down as they came closer. As they passed by, the boy dropped the plastic dinosaur he was carrying. It landed just in front of her. The family kept on walking. She heard the boy cry, "Mommy!" The mother didn't seem to be paying attention. She looked down at the toy. A green tyrannosaurus rex. She could still hear the boy crying. She began to bend down to pick it up, so that she could return it to him. Just as she reached out to take it, a hand came out of nowhere and plucked it up. "Get away from that!"

Karen looked up; It was the mother. She began to say something when she heard the boy say, "Hi! Who are you?" She turned to look at the boy. He looked so much like her own son had when he was that age. She began to say hello when suddenly the mother grabbed the boy and pulled him away. "Don't talk to her! She's nobody!" She pushed the boy back to where the father and sister stood. "Come on, let's go!" They began to walk away. As they were heading off, Karen heard her say to her husband, "Do you believe those people! They're so disgusting!"

Karen stood there watching them. She felt the tears in her eyes. Didn't that woman understand? She didn't want to be here! She let the tears fall for a moment and then shook her head. She couldn't fall apart now, she had to find a place to spend the night.

She began to walk in the direction in which she had originally been going. As she was passing the Museum of American History, she looked up and saw steam rising from the grates next to the building. She made her way over there. Most of the people there were already asleep. She moved up the row. There was a small space near the end. A ragged woman was sitting there. She looked up at Karen. Karen stared for a moment. That face was familiar. Where had she seen her before? Probably one of the shelters.

"There's room here." Ellen offered. She moved slightly and offered the very end space to Karen. Karen moved quickly and sat down. She stared at Ellen.

"Don't I know you?"

Ellen shrugged, "May be. I seen a lot of people come and go."

"I've never been here before." Karen said. Ellen just shrugged again.

They sat there in silence for several minutes. Karen felt embarrassed. She felt a need to explain herself.

"I'm not used to this." she said.

Ellen didn't look at her, but stared straight ahead. After a moment she said, "Doesn't take as much get'n used to as you'd think."

Karen protested, "I don't want to get used to it!"

Ellen, still staring ahead, replied, "Doesn't matter what you want, you got to get used to it. All of us have."

"But you don't understand! You don't know what I've been through!"

"I know." Ellen responded. It was as if she had related all of the experiences of her life in those two words.

"How can you possibly know?" demanded Karen.

Ellen turned now and looked Karen straight in the eyes. Karen almost jumped. Those weren't the eyes of a wino or a lunatic. They were eyes filled with emotion and understanding. As she looked into those eyes, she heard Ellen say, "Lady, I was you."

Karen sat stunned. Suddenly, the encounter with the family filled her mind. She could once again hear the mother, "Don't talk to her! She's nobody!" She closed her eyes as a single tear trickled down her cheek. She understood.

Ellen laughed a little laugh. "And now you're me." She reached into her coat and took out a little piece of bread and cheese she had saved from this morning's find. She handed it to Karen.

Karen took the bread and cheese. The bread was slightly moldy and the cheese was dry. She looked at Ellen, who was now leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed. She looked back at the bread and cheese. It was the first food she had seen since morning. It didn't really looked that bad, she thought. She supposed she would get used to it. Next to her, Ellen was snoring quietly. She listened to the rhythmic sound of her breathing as she silently began to eat.

Description
Cold.

It wasn't a sensation. It was a part of her. It was all that she was. That, and hungry. A tattered page from The Washington Post went scuttling by in front of her, pushed by the wind. She took a chance of losing her place on the warm grating and hurried to intercept it. The paper leapt this way and that; up and down, left and right. For one moment it seemed to just hang there in the air. She lunged, arms outstretched, landing square upon her chin on the pavement. Her hurt turned to elation as she looked to see the paper clutched firmly in her hand. She quickly picked herself up and scurried back to the grating. Her space was still there, marked by the steam that rose like a blessing from below. The others remained unmoving; asleep. At least she hoped they were asleep. In this weather, one remained unmoving for only two reasons: sleep and death. She risked losing her space once more and crept down to the other end of the grating. She knelt next to one of the prone figures and put her face next to his. It was the grizzled face of John the Gimp. He hadn't been doing too well lately: coughing up blood and throwing up most of what little he ate. She listened. Good. She could hear his breath come in low, raspy rumblings. A doctor would have been alarmed by what he heard. She was relieved. At least he was breathing, and around here, that was everything.

She began to head back to her spot and then stopped. She felt the newspaper in her hands and turned back to John. She walked back to him and gently covered him with the paper, tucking it in around him so it wouldn't blow away. Seeing that it was secure, she turned and hurried back to the other side of the grating and crawled on to her space. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the biting cold that was already starting to numb her feet. She thought about tomorrow. There was a large party at the State Department tonight. That meant lots of leftover food would be thrown out in the morning. She imagined that trash bin and felt a twinge of hope before sleep brought welcomed obliteration.

* * * *

She'd got there too late. It was only a little after 7:00, but the trash bin had already been picked clean of all the choice morsels. She spent about 15 minutes rummaging through what was left and miraculously managed to salvage a small bag of rolls that the others had somehow missed. She quickly stuffed the food into her coat.

She had just begun to cross 15th Street when suddenly, the screech of a car skidding shattered the cold air. She looked to her left to see a brown BMW skidding toward her. She watched it come calmly, until it finally stopped only a few inches from her. The horn beeped and wailed and she could see a blond woman behind the wheel yelling and shaking her fist at her. After a moment, when she was sure that there were no more cars coming from the other direction, she continued on across the street and headed on to where she knew John and the others would be huddled on the warm grating.

* * * *

It was colder today. She had decided to get an early start and it was still dark when she had started going through the garbage. So far she had found nothing but vegetable peelings. If it had been only herself she was hunting for, she would have given up an hour ago, but John needed to eat. He had gotten worse, hardly able to breath. She looked up at the brightening sky; people would be leaving for work soon. She forced herself to work faster and moved on to the next set of cans.

* * * *

"Mrs. Karen Sullivan?"

"Yes." She stood there in her bathrobe and slippers staring sleepily at the UPS man.

"Package for you. If you'd just sign here." the man said, handing her the package and holding the clipboard in front of her face. She signed. "Thank you. Have a nice day." The man turned and walked back to his truck.

Karen looked down at the package. It was from Bloomingdales. She couldn't remember what it was. She was always ordering things from there. She glanced idly at the UPS truck as it backed out onto the street. She began to close the door when she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. There was someone out by the garbage cans. She squinted through the glare that shone off the car port next door. It was one of those people. She felt the blood rush to her face. She dropped the package and ran down the walk.

"Get out of here!" she screamed. "Get out!" She was standing about ten feet away from the garbage cans and could see the dirty face of the woman peering out at her from behind the tattered towel that she used as a shawl. "How dare you!" The woman just stood there with bits of torn, greasy garbage in her hands. Karen rushed at her, infuriated. "Get out! Get out!" She pushed the woman, who stumbled and fell, spilling the garbage on the ground. Karen stood over her screaming, "Let go of that! That's my garbage! You have no right!" The woman rolled over, got onto her hands and knees, and slowly raised herself up. She steadied herself and then slowly began to walk down the driveway. Karen stood shaking and watched her shuffle away. "You better stay away from here!" she called after her, "If I ever see you again, I'll call the police!" She watched until the woman had rounded the corner.

She just couldn't believe this. It was bad enough that you saw them everywhere in the city, but did they have to come out here and ruin a nice, quiet neighborhood? Here she was, married to a top financial advisor to a powerful senator, two beautiful kids, a nice house, and she had to put up with this. And this wasn't the first time she had come across these people. Yesterday she had almost run one of them down. Some stupid, crazy woman jumped out in front of her car. She would probably have ended up in jail if she hadn't stopped in time.

She looked down at the garbage on the ground and swore. "Those damn people!" she muttered and turned and went inside to get a broom.

* * * *

It was a long walk back. She reached into her pocket and took out some cheese wrapped in wax paper that she had found just before the woman had come running out. Finding that cheese had made it all worthwhile. She smiled a little, thinking how happy John would be when he saw what she had; he loved cheese.

When she had returned to the museum she saw a crowd gathered near the grates. As she came closer, she could see that there were several paramedics huddled around someone on the grating. She managed to push her way through the throng and saw the paramedics tightening straps around someone on a stretcher. She couldn't tell who it was because their whole body, including the face, was wrapped tightly in a sheet.

She glanced around wildly. Where were the others? She saw some of them. John! Where was he? Was that him lying down at the other end of the grating? She hobbled over and knelt down next to the bundle of torn and tattered clothes. His back was to her and she leaned over to look at his face. Just then, there was a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Shelly standing there. "I tried waking him up, Ellen, but he just wouldn't." Her expression softened into one of compassion. "Its better this way. He couldn't get around. He couldn't even eat." Shelly's hand lingered on her shoulder for a brief moment, and then she turned and walked over to stand with the others and watch as the paramedics loaded John into the ambulance.

Ellen sat down and watched the steam that rose through the grate. From her pocket she drew the wax paper and slowly opened it. She stared at the little piece of cheese. It was small, about the size of quarter, but it was perfect; no mold, no dirt. She had been so careful with it that not even a speck of lint from her coat pocket had managed to mar it. She held it in her hands and admired it through the tears. It was perfect, she thought, how John would have loved it.

* * * *

It was warmer today. She didn't even need the newspapers to help her keep warm. She liked days like this. She could actually take the time to read the paper for a change. She had been lucky enough to get an entire paper last night and, after reassembling it, she began to read. She ignored the world and national news; it all seemed too far away to have any real meaning. Instead, she turned to the local news. That was something the affected her directly. That's how she had found out about the dinner at the State Department. It paid to keep an eye open for things like that.

She read an article about some Senate aide embezzling hundreds of thousands of dollars from a campaign fund. She was always amazed at how these people who had it all just couldn't get enough. She read:

Mr. James Sullivan, Senior Financial Aide to Senator Bob Kawolski, is being sought for allegedly hundreds of thousands of dollars from his boss's campaign. He is also being investigated for income tax evasion. Informed sources say that Mr. Sullivan has apparently fled town. A search at his Georgetown home turned up nothing. His family is apparently unaware of his whereabouts.

Wasn't that always the way? He was probably out of the country by now, living the good life somewhere.

She looked up. It was getting cloudy and it looked like rain. She had better get moving down to the overpass. She folded up the paper and stuffed it inside her coat and headed off, keeping a close eye on the gathering clouds.

* * * *

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to leave."

Karen looked desperately at the woman. "Please, I've got no where to go."

The woman asked, "I'm sorry, but you know the rules. Three weeks for singles."

Karen cried, "But I'm not single! I have two kids."

The woman looked around and said, "I don't see any kids."

"They're with my in-laws." she replied dejectedly.

"Well, why don't you go and stay with them?" asked the woman.

"They're in New York." she answered.

"Well then, I can allow you to make a collect call. Maybe they can help you."

Karen shook her head. "No, they won't help me. They hate me. They blame me for what my husband did. She was almost in tears.

"Why are you kids there then?"

"I had them with me in a shelter, after the government took everything for the taxes, but they couldn't go to school; they couldn't get enough to eat. Finally, I called his parents and told them what was happening. They said I could send the kids, but I'd have to stay here."

"Well, they're still your kids, they can't keep you from them."

"They said that if they so much as heard that I was in New York, they'd send the kids to live with my husband."

"And where is he?"

"I don't know. When the government came to take everything they told me that he was out of the country."

The woman felt sorry, but she had a job to do. "I'm truly sorry, but you have to go." She saw the look of utter dejection on Karen's face and added, "You can try coming back in a month or so, maybe some more places will open up." She gently took Karen's arm and led her to the door. "Good luck. And keep warm." she said.

Karen stepped out into the cold. It was snowing. She looked up and down the street. Any way was as good as another, she thought. She pulled her scarf close to her face and walked slowly up the street, looking down at the ground in front of her. She was afraid that someone she knew might see her in her dirty clothes. These were the only set that hadn't been lost or stolen and she had been wearing them for a month now. She knew that they must smell. At least she had managed to wash up at the shelter this morning.

She wandered for what seemed to be a lifetime. It was starting to get dark. She had to find a place to sleep soon. She was walking in front of the Museum of Natural History when she looked up and saw a family walking down the street. The mother and father were about her age. The children, a boy and a girl were about four and seven respectively. She saw them walking toward her laughing and playing with the souvenirs they had bought in the museum. She looked back down as they came closer. As they passed by, the boy dropped the plastic dinosaur he was carrying. It landed just in front of her. The family kept on walking. She heard the boy cry, "Mommy!" The mother didn't seem to be paying attention. She looked down at the toy. A green tyrannosaurus rex. She could still hear the boy crying. She began to bend down to pick it up, so that she could return it to him. Just as she reached out to take it, a hand came out of nowhere and plucked it up. "Get away from that!"

Karen looked up; It was the mother. She began to say something when she heard the boy say, "Hi! Who are you?" She turned to look at the boy. He looked so much like her own son had when he was that age. She began to say hello when suddenly the mother grabbed the boy and pulled him away. "Don't talk to her! She's nobody!" She pushed the boy back to where the father and sister stood. "Come on, let's go!" They began to walk away. As they were heading off, Karen heard her say to her husband, "Do you believe those people! They're so disgusting!"

Karen stood there watching them. She felt the tears in her eyes. Didn't that woman understand? She didn't want to be here! She let the tears fall for a moment and then shook her head. She couldn't fall apart now, she had to find a place to spend the night.

She began to walk in the direction in which she had originally been going. As she was passing the Museum of American History, she looked up and saw steam rising from the grates next to the building. She made her way over there. Most of the people there were already asleep. She moved up the row. There was a small space near the end. A ragged woman was sitting there. She looked up at Karen. Karen stared for a moment. That face was familiar. Where had she seen her before? Probably one of the shelters.

"There's room here." Ellen offered. She moved slightly and offered the very end space to Karen. Karen moved quickly and sat down. She stared at Ellen.

"Don't I know you?"

Ellen shrugged, "May be. I seen a lot of people come and go."

"I've never been here before." Karen said. Ellen just shrugged again.

They sat there in silence for several minutes. Karen felt embarrassed. She felt a need to explain herself.

"I'm not used to this." she said.

Ellen didn't look at her, but stared straight ahead. After a moment she said, "Doesn't take as much get'n used to as you'd think."

Karen protested, "I don't want to get used to it!"

Ellen, still staring ahead, replied, "Doesn't matter what you want, you got to get used to it. All of us have."

"But you don't understand! You don't know what I've been through!"

"I know." Ellen responded. It was as if she had related all of the experiences of her life in those two words.

"How can you possibly know?" demanded Karen.

Ellen turned now and looked Karen straight in the eyes. Karen almost jumped. Those weren't the eyes of a wino or a lunatic. They were eyes filled with emotion and understanding. As she looked into those eyes, she heard Ellen say, "Lady, I was you."

Karen sat stunned. Suddenly, the encounter with the family filled her mind. She could once again hear the mother, "Don't talk to her! She's nobody!" She closed her eyes as a single tear trickled down her cheek. She understood.

Ellen laughed a little laugh. "And now you're me." She reached into her coat and took out a little piece of bread and cheese she had saved from this morning's find. She handed it to Karen.

Karen took the bread and cheese. The bread was slightly moldy and the cheese was dry. She looked at Ellen, who was now leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed. She looked back at the bread and cheese. It was the first food she had seen since morning. It didn't really looked that bad, she thought. She supposed she would get used to it. Next to her, Ellen was snoring quietly. She listened to the rhythmic sound of her breathing as she silently began to eat.