At the time I worked for Pete’s Pizza Company. I worked late shifts as well as day time shifts so that I could raise enough money.
One winter night, as I did the routine emptying the trash and locking up, I saw her. She lay in front of the door way. I guess I was kind of lost for words. I had heard about homelessness, but I had never seen it before. Also, I had never been so close to someone homeless. I stared for a few minutes unsure on what to do. I stepped over her carefully and emptied the rubbish in the bin. I stared at her condition for a few minutes. I thought about whether I should give her money; tell her to go? Or should I just leave?
I silently bent down toward her, and she woke up and saw me. I could see the fear in her eyes. I sat on the step besides her and whispered,
“Are you okay?” She just stared. Her grey eyes were big. I could see the bags under her eyes. She blinked a couple of times then sat up, and yawned.
“What do you want?” She asked in a hostile tone.
“Sorry to disturb you, but... you can’t really sleep here. I mean my boss will get angry and well.”
I ended my sentence there. I could see her face. There where dry tear stains. She then packed up. She didn’t have very much stuff; in fact she slept inside a box. I wondered. A piece of box like that would mean more to her, than I could possibly understand.
“Wait,” I said as she was leaving. She turned round. “What is it like being homeless?” I didn’t mean it as a joke.
“Seriously?” She asked.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I mean like a ten pound note would like mean the world to me, but for others like hundreds of pounds could like be loose change.”
She gave me an uncertain smile. “Being homeless is actually well not that bad. I mean I take things useful which I never would have before.”
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Fifteen,” She replied.
“I know like I am a total stranger, but would you like a place to stay?”
She nodded at me, and I showed her to my apartment. I felt sorry for her. She had ripped tights and a sleeveless top.