(Just a little note from the author: This is from a child's perspective.)

It's December 25!

Christmas!

Mummy and Daddy are going to take me to a big mall later. I want to look for my present there! And see the Christmas trees! They're so big and tall and sparkly!!

I've always wanted to celebrate Christmas with Mummy and Daddy again. The last time we celebrated Christmas together . . . it was a long time. Two years ago? Three? I forgot . . .

They're always so busy. Why?

It's Christmas, right? Shouldn't they be celebrating?

Why would they keep working? Don't we have enough money?

I don't wanna know. Mummy said they're "adult stuff", not "kid stuff", like teddy bears, or dolls. Like you, Beary.

I want to be an adult, now.

But, if I'm an adult . . . I won't be able to wear cute clothes! Like what I have now!

You see, Beary? This dress is sooo cute!

I can't wait to show this to Santa! He might be able to give me a good gift if I look nice.

Not that I'm naughty, Beary. Just for a little insurance, just like what Daddy wants.

Mummy's calling!! We're finally going to the mall!!

I'll be back in a jiffy, Beary! Don't touch anything!

. . .

You know, I think I'll just bring you along.

It gets lonely when I'm with them.

_________ (Line Break)

Beary, I'm scared.

They're shouting at each other again.

They keep doing this. Even at night, when they think I'm asleep.

I don't know what they're shouting about, but Beary, it's scaring me.

Isn't it Christmas? Like what the priest said?

Isn't it a time of fun?

So why do they keep getting mad at each other?

I don't understand . . .

I just wanted us to be happy.

At least you don't need to be happy, Beary. You're already so happy.

I wish I could be like that too. Always smiling.

It's my fault, isn't it?

Oh! Beary! Look! There's the mall!

See that Christmas tree in front? That's the one I was talking about! It's big, isn't it? It looks like it could reach for the sky!

You know, I've always wanted to decorate that tree. Especially to put that star on top! It's my favorite part of decorating the tree!

We're going inside the mall now, Beary!

I'm going to pick my gifts, ride the carousel, eat all the ice cream I want, have pictures of the THREE Christmas trees in the mall, and visit SANTA!

I'm so excited!

_________

Fred Sunwick has been homeless for as long as he could remember.

For him, it's just another result from a litany of bad choices.

Squandered money on a college course that wouldn't earn squat in any half decent place.

Made a band, loaned instruments, booked a few gigs, only to have "friends" steal the instruments, leaving him with more debts.

Couldn't be there for his parents.

GIrlfriend dumped on him because he was poor. She's probably living with some millionaire right now, having the Beverly Hills Housewives life.

Bad choices, one after another.

He hopes that his choice of a begging spot isn't another.

Otherwise, he'll be starving. On a Christmas night.

He still has a bottle of that triple-distilled moonshine Old Man Bob gave him, which he pulls out of his coat.

The temptation to take a swig pulls at his conscience. The greater temptation to finish the remaining three quarters of the bottle tugs at his already-damaged heartstrings and logic, to let the alcohol damage his husk of a human body even further, to finish the job he bought the bottle for: to end this suffering.

He stops his moping when he sees somebody walking towards him.

Fred resigns himself to his fate. "It's probably another mall cop," he thought, "ready to kick me out again."

He closed his eyes, giving up in face of being sent out into the street. Or worse, the shelter. It's crowded.

He was surprised when someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder, instead of feeling a heavy weight of a cop's hand on his shoulder, with the other hand holding a baton to his skull.

He opened his eyes, and found a little girl in front of him.

Fred was surprised. She looked rich.

Rich enough that he thought this was some kind of fevered dream.

It's not everyday that someone in a miniature Gucci coat, golden Adidas sneaks, and a Prada purse walks up to a homeless guy that smells of abject poverty.

The girl smiled. It wasn't a smile with anything inside of it. Just a pure smile.

She rifled through her coat pockets, trying to find something. A can of Mace? Pepper spray? A miniaturized, custom-made handgun?

The girl put down the bear she had tucked in between her elbow to the pavement, and went through her other coat pockets, the scarf wrapped around her neck waving this way and that with every movement of her petite shoulders.

Fred felt humbled by the effort. It's not everyday that someone puts so much effort to give something to someone like him.

The girl crouched down so that she was eye-level with Fred.

Fred was starstruck by how beautiful the child was, even at such a young age. Big brown eyes with flecks of gold, a cute little button nose, and a nice simple hairdo. She could've been winning beauty pageants left and right.

The girl outstretched her hand towards him. Inside was a folded 20-dollar bill.

"Merry Christmas," she said, eyes glistening with . . . love? Compassion?

Shakily, Fred accepted the offering.

"Th-th-thank you," he stammered out, his hands shakily pocketing the bill. "I don't know what to give," he continued. "I have nothing."

Fred paused.

He hesitantly asked, "What's your name, little girl?"

"Astrid."

Fred's hearing, sharpened by year's worth of escaping the lam, picked up two loud voices. Both of them calling for Astrid.

Astrid quickly turned back, grabbed the stuffed bear, and ran back towards the voices.

She turned back to Fred once more, and said "Bye!"

The last glimpse Fred had of her was her entering the mall, hand in hand with her parents.

Fred took the now-crumpled dollar bill from his pocket, and smiled to himself.

Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad Christmas after all.