She could feel everyone’s eyes on her. She felt their accusing looks as they surveyed her grimy appearance. Hadn’t they ever learned that it’s rude to stare? It must have been a lesson somewhere in their fancy, judging brains, but there was no point to use such knowledge on a street girl. A street girl could not possibly understand kind things like that. All street girls could do were throw a punch and shoplift.

But this street girl was different. As she curled up into a tiny ball and ignored the rude people around her, images of a happy time whirled through her head. She could see a large woman with straw blonde hair hugging her. She saw a Christmas tree, poorly decorated, and tiny kids eagerly unwrapping their presents. Her strongest memory was how the woman with straw blonde hair wanted to dye her hair brown, and she always complained about her eyesight. The street girl wondered what happened to it all.

Cold wind slapped at the street girl’s cheeks. People hugged their coats around them tighter. Some wore hats. She wondered what it would be like to be as warm as them. How might it feel to sit in a warm house and sip hot cocoa? She had lacked such warm fuzzies for a long time.

Most importantly, the girl hungered for a companion. Not just a friend, but someone who could relate to her pain, someone with whom she could share her sorrows, but best of all, someone who gave her love. The girl couldn’t remember what it felt like to be loved by someone. The woman with straw blonde hair had loved her, she knew by the memories, but the street girl couldn’t feel that anymore. Actually, she hardly felt anything at all. The only things she did feel were the temperature and people’s gawking stares. Sometimes she felt hunger, but everything else had been blocked.

The street girl wondered what it was like to feel. Not just to feel love, but to feel anything else there was to feel. She could feel the rough street underneath her feet. The long, yellow blades of grass still tickled her feet when she ran barefoot though them. All her heart’s feelings had vanished. No compassion sprung from her soul, yet no hatred either. The street girl did not know happiness, nor sadness. Pain escaped her, anger had no place, and ecstasy ran away.

In general, the street girl did not miss these feelings. Hatred and anger were evils of the world, and people complained often of pain. Although there was one feeling above all that the girl wanted back. Her life would be utterly complete if, for one last time, she could love and be loved. Just one last time. Then she could live on the streets forever until she died.

The girl got up and wandered the sidewalk. Dusk was creeping up and people were getting off the streets. They didn’t want to be alone when night pounced. Who knows what could happen then? A street girl could mug them. A street boy could kill them. Street people were insane.

As the girl was walking, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She spun around defensively, ready for attack, ready for the punch. Then the hand did the most insane thing she could imagine. It let go. The girl forced herself to look up at this person. She had mousy brown hair and thick glasses.

The woman took off her coat and gave it to the street girl. She removed her shoes and placed them on the girl’s feet. Her hat found it’s way to the girl’s head. The girl could not speak. Tears sprang to her eyes and crawled down her cheeks. Who was this woman giving her such things?

A foggy look appeared in the woman’s eyes. The street girl gazed up at them. It was a different look than she had ever received before. It wasn’t sympathy. It wasn’t disgust. It was warm and sent out heat like a fire.

The street girl took a closer look at the woman with thick glasses. She noticed bright blonde roots in her mousy brown hair. Then she looked back at the woman’s face. The woman looked familiar. Where had she seen this woman before?

The woman took the street girl’s hand. It was warm like her eyes. She led the street girl down the sidewalk. They walked for a long time. Dusk eventually morphed into night. Millions of stars dotted the sky. Everything was bathed in moonlight.

Finally, everything clicked in the street girl’s brain. She knew what look the woman had given. She knew why the woman had helped her. She knew where she had seen this woman before. Before she could ask this woman anything, the woman spoke. Her voice was filled with the same emotion as her eyes, and was caught with tears.

“Hon’,” the magical voice said, “it’s me.”

A/N: My first story on this site. Yay for me! And don’t forget to review!