For a long time I wandered down some random street, aimlessly. I vaguely remembered walking down here when I'd first come into the city, when I'd first moved in below Roger and Mark's apartment.

I didn't own a watch, but considering there were few people on the street besides me, and it was pretty dark, I guessed that it was around eleven.

I wondered if Mark and Benny were looking for me. I shrugged my hands into the deep pockets of my coat. There wasn't a chance that I was going to go back to the loft tonight.

If I went back at all.

I found a park that was pretty empty, give or take a few crazy homeless people slithering around in the middle of the night, just waiting for some unsuspecting person to walk their way.

I was too tired to care. I settled down on a damp bench and lay down on my side. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my coat around myself. I shivered, gazing up at the stars. I bet that Mark would love to film this: Close on Mimi Marquez, passed out on a bench in Central Park in the middle of the night.

The spot between my eyes felt like someone was whacking away at my head with a hammer. I shut my eyes tightly, ignoring the sounds of screeching cars and occasional obscene comments from the drivers.

Slowly, I drifted off into sleep.

That next morning, I opened my eyes and slowly lifted my head up to gaze sleepily around me. I pushed my curls out of my eyes, finding, with annoyance, that they were damp. It must have rained last night. I most have REALLY been out if I slept through the rain.

I heard some shuffling on the bench beside me, and I turned to see a disheveled looking guy in a huge overcoat, grasping a squeegee tightly in his hands. He was staring at me.

Christ, had he been watching me sleep?

His face broke out into a scarily friendly smile.

"Honest Living," he offered.

"No thanks," I muttered, swinging my knees over the side of the bench, and shakily standing to my feet.

So much for keeping warm. The rain water had drenched my coat and seeped through my clothes from the Cat Scratch. My skin was cold like ice. "It's cold," the man said, trying to be helpful.

"Is it?" I yanked off my coat, which was about ten times heavier, due to all that rainwater,

The Squeegee man stared blankly at my skanky outfit, un-phased.

"You need clothes," he said. He was stating a fact, not asking.

"I suppose I do," I said stupidly, looking down at myself.

"Here. They warm." He said, thrusting a bundle into my hand. "Keep you warm."

In my arms he'd placed a pair of old ripped leg warmers, an old sweater, and a scarf. I sat, shocked, clutching the knit scarf tightly in my hands.

"Where'd you find this?" I asked, examining them. They almost looked new, aside from the tear in the leg warmers.

He smiled. "Big Woman on St. Anthony's. Give clothes to people."

"You mean you stole them?"

He shrugged.

I pulled the sweater over my head, and slipped on the leg warmers. I still felt cold, but that was probably more because I had a temperature.

"Thank you," I said, breathlessly. I picked my wet coat off the ground and fumbled around in the pockets until I found a couple of damp singles. I held them out to him, but he pushed my arms away.

"No need money. You wear clothes. I happy giving." He grinned widely, revealing a surprisingly straight set of yellowed teeth.

I thanked him again, wishing I had something of value that he would accept.

"I leave," he pointed to a spot past my shoulder. "Hot dog vender. Not looking. You want hot dog?"

"No thanks," I said, humored by him. "I'm a vegetarian."

He shrugged again, and sauntered off in the direction in which a tiny hot dog stand was set up. Indeed, no one was keeping it in order at the moment.

I decided to find someplace cheap where I could get something decent to eat for ten bucks. Tossing my dampened coat over my shoulder, I walked past the brass gates, eyeing all the names of the little restaurants lining the sidewalks, trying to decide which would be cheapest.

As I left the park, I could hear the incoherent shrieking of some poor, robbed hot dog Vendor, and the Squeegee man screeching madly with laughter behind me.