All the lonely people where do they all belong...

In a small corner of a dark and deserted street he waits. The chill of the night has soaked into every crevice of his body, sliding smoothly around the joints in his fingers, his kneecaps, his ankles. The sound of a passing car jolts him out of his statuesque pose, he hears a car door slam, footsteps crunching on gravel, and looks up. Maybe, just maybe they would turn in his direction, walk towards his dank little corner, and make him an offering. Some warm food, a blanket, maybe even a little money.

In his mind a little scene plays out. He is shivering, and a kind, benevolent face peers down at him. Wordlessly a blanket drops around his shoulders, a plate of food is presented from the folds of the kind stranger's coat. Somehow the stranger has a lot of leftover change and gives it to him. The stranger even offers to take him anywhere he wants to go in their car. Somewhere warmer, perhaps? The stranger smiles, and reaches out to grasp his hand.

The sounds of crunching gravel fade off into the distance. No one is coming down this pathetic street tonight. No one ever does. The man huddles closer into the corner, legs folding inwards, hands balled into fists and thrust close to his chest. He looks like a child. An innocent little child. 

As he drifts off into sleep, the man wonders if this winter will finally be his last. Wonders if all of his lonely life will only ever amount to this. Huddling in a street corner, teeth chattering from the cold, and alone. So utterly alone.