It was cold outside when I met him. It was dark too, and there were a couple of speckles of snow falling. Everything outside was slow and quiet, it’s not often that the city is slow and quiet nowadays, I like it when the world seems quiet.  

I was looking at a giant display of poinsettias that were lit up behind a shop window. All the petals were bright red, I think some of them were fake, I don’t know how long I stood there. I don’t remember what I was thinking either, there’s a lot I don’t remember from then... but I don’t think I want to remember.  

I do remember him walking up to me. His hair was bright and blonde and he was at least a head taller than me. He wasn’t bundled up like most people are when it’s cold out, just a jacket and some jeans. He looked at the poinsettias with me for a while, not saying anything. He commented on how pretty they were. I shook my head adamantly in disagreement but didn’t say a word. He looked at me then, and his face was full of pity. I don’t like pity, but I suppose at this time I deserved it. He put his hand to my face, people like my face, touching, embracing, holding it... he touched my lips with his thumb, and I looked up at his face. I needed somewhere to sleep tonight, and he seemed nice enough. He removed his hand, and I noticed the small smear of blood now on his thumb. I think we talked about something after that but all I remember is following him down the street.