The clock on the wall read 8:15 PM.
Freelancer sat in his chair and looked out the window. The snowflakes were displeasing to his eyes. He sipped his coffee.
The café was empty, for the most part. The patrons that still remained were scattered throughout. He’d found a nice corner away from everyone to seat himself in. Even still, though… he felt as if he were slowly being killed by this place. As if the life was slowly being drained out of him. He felt like that all the time, now.
The snow continued to fall outside, and Freelancer continued to watch it with melancholy. He felt less and less like he belonged here. The friends he’d lost, the lover’s who’d been taken from him, the emptiness that came from having nothing to do… he especially missed the small things. A simple conversation here and there… even that was gone. He sipped at his coffee again and sat in silence for some time.
The patrons that remained slowly began to leave, one by one, until Freelancer was the only one remaining. He felt alone, now… in the café, in the streets, in life.
Freelancer lingered for a while longer, then left the storefront. The snow was still falling, but he felt nothing. No sting of cold, no tickle from the gentle caress of the pure ice crystals. He lit a cigarette, and inhaled deeply of it before beginning his down the sidewalk.
The streets were brightly lit, and there were people all around… it felt as empty as ever.
Freelancer rounded a corner and stumbled across an old homeless man, who begged him for even the smallest change.
"How do you live," Freelancer asked of the man. "How do you go on?"
The man looked at Freelancer for a moment. He spoke softly and slowly.
"My life is a direct result of the kindness of others… while it saddens me that I must rely on it, I am uplifted to see that there are those who would care for a poor old man like myself."
Freelancer stood silently for a moment. He dropped his cigarette without even realizing it. He looked at the old man again. Freelancer took his hand and placed several large bills into it.
The old man looked overjoyed and thanked Freelancer.
"No… I’m the one who should be thanking you…" replied Freelancer before continuing on his way, without words to express the beauty of what the old man had just given him. If just for a moment, Freelancer felt a flicker of hope in this hopeless world. He then disappeared into the night.
