The Little Girl

"So, what's the plan?" Pete casually asks. Hands stuffed in the pockets of his gray coat.

It's cold outside. Last night, it snowed here. Roads and sidewalks have disappeared under white flecks of snow. Our every breath creates a small cloud in front of us.

I snort.

Pete glances at me, "you've been snorting a lot lately."

"You've been acting like a stupid a lot lately," I state.

We walk through a comfortable silence.

A child walks past us. Wearing a yellow tattered sundress on her frail body. Golden blond hair sticking up in every direction. She is visibly shivering. From the cold weather. I notice her feet are covered with a pair of soon-to-be-garbage boots.

Pete walks towards her. Shrugs of his gray coat. Then offers her the coat.

I stand there. Watching. And smiling a little.

The kid stops and looks at Pete's face.

"Here," Pete says, "You can have it."

The little girl glances at me and glances back at Pete. Examines the coat with her eyes. Then finally says,

"You keep it. You'll be cold."

Pete seems surprised. I am surprised too.

A lot.

I expected her to take the coat, give us a smile, maybe, and case closed. What I didn't expect is her declining the offer.

Pete kneels in front of her and asks, "What's your name, kiddo?"

"My name is Scarlet," she answers, "And don't call me kiddo."

"Okay, Scarlet, you can take the coat," Pete smiles, "I have many."

Scarlet scrunches her nose, "Then go to hell with your coat, I don't want it. I don't live at the mercy of people like you."

Then she runs away. We stay as we were. Pete kneeling, me, standing. Dumbfounded. And speechless.