An Unseen Stranger

Snow fell soft and heavy on the rooftops, drifting down to muffle the city’s labored breaths. Four black ravens traversed the darkening sky as jazz music and the scent of chilled plum wine wafted along asphalt corridors. People walked more quickly now, as the bite of frost began to set in. They had places to be. Warm places, smelling of honey and fruitcake, dusted with laughter. They hardly noticed that some did not. Beneath the eves of an ancient cathedral, a young woman sat alone. Her hair was drawn back in a tattered scarf and she clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Everything about her, from her pale, gaunt face to her rigid, unmoving figure likened her to the statues that surrounded her, save for the faint blue pulsing of veins beneath translucent skin. Yet unlike the statues, she was not sought after or prayed to. They did not bestow upon her praise or garlands or candles. Strange how rough stone could bring comfort while quivering flesh begot only gilded aversion. And that was all she was to them. Strange. A stranger. She was not spared any shred of humanity as her pride was stamped to shards beneath their sturdy boots and swept up in their winter coats as they strode past her. Not unkindly, but unknowingly. They did not see her because they did not want to see her. Their world was curated, filled with items of light and beauty, insulated from the cold--a luxury she could not afford. Yet, sadly, their indifference was a blessing to her. She could stay there, shivering from cold, beneath the eves.