When I awoke the next morning, I wondered if I had dreamt it all. My rational mind was telling me it seemed too amazing for it to be real. I was not one to fantasize too much, especially where it concerned things that lurked in the dark recesses of sewers and the like. I figure my life was scary enough without trying to add to my personal drama. Between living in the slums of New York where every shadow had a possible bad guy, to working at the diner where most of the bad guys not occupying shadows came to eat, I had a pretty good rock solid idea that life was frightening all by itself. I never watched television for that reason either. Of course it helped that I couldn't afford one. Besides, I was too tired from working double shifts every day at the diner. I would have ended up falling asleep in front of it. A pretty expensive sleeping pill if you ask me!

After showering and – oh, yeah, I did have a bathroom in my single room apartment; just in case one wondered where I bathed and where I…. Enough said. So, after showering, which is what I did every morning to help me wake up and the first thing I do before I eat breakfast, I went to the cabinet to grab some bread for toast. The bread was gone. Humph, that's strange. I was really convinced my experience from the night before had just been one of those 'too real' dreams. I had been awfully tired when I made the mistake of reminiscing about things past, which always gave me a bit of insomnia … and sometimes nightmares.

Considering my 'dream' I decided to check on the peanut butter and jam. I figured that if they were still there, then that would convince me I had run out of bread and forgotten about it altogether. Imagine my surprise, though, when I discovered that they were gone as well. I quickly checked on my bags of 'empties' and found them missing, too.

Okay, so my rational brain was finally catching up and seriously considering that my special friends were not a figment of my imagination, meager as it was. Either that or someone broke in during the night – getting passed my five locks - and copped off with said sandwich fixings and my empties. Right. I don't think so. Not when they could have had me. Okay, maybe the other valuables looked better when you really got right down to it. But, you have to admit, standing there in that kitchen and wondering if it had been real, questioning all of that and then coming to the conclusion ala Sherlock Holmes that if whatever remains must be the truth. It was all very sobering, to say the least!

I decided on a couple cups of very strong coffee to further rid my befuddled brain of cobwebs still lurking in the dark corners of my gray matter. Maybe once I completely woke up I'd see the bread where it was suppose to be and that would help defrag my illusion. It helped … a little. The bread was still gone, but at least now I was fully functional and conscious – which didn't say a whole lot. It was still 4:30 in the morning!

I went about the day as I always did and tried to forget about last night. I was at the diner by five to do the breakfast-lunch schedule; then home for a few hours until dinner time. Then I was back at the diner to work until it closed at ten.

Yep, I had a full and complete life, that was sure. Only problem was most of it was spent serving ungrateful patrons.

The boss was pretty decent, though. Crazy Bill – as we called him – understood how tough it was to make ends meet. When I told him I needed extra hours a few months ago, after my rent went up – again, he allowed me to do the double shifts. I could have kissed him. It would have been fitting, too, since he was also the cook! I just love humor when it happens naturally.

Personally I'd rather be doing what I used to do. But after Brandi died five years ago I just couldn't bring myself to going back to teaching at the university. It was just too hard watching all those college kids and wondering what my daughter would have been like had she lived long enough to find out. She was only nine at the time; too young to die, as far as I was concerned. And, it concerned me a lot back then. Sometimes it still does, especially around her birthday.

But working the diner kept me in touch with a little reality – and out of reach of memory-triggers. I really didn't mind it so much.

That night, I sludged my way back to the brownstone. It was only about a four block walk for me and I was quite familiar with the landmarks along the way. I was usually pretty good about keeping my eyes peeled for 'unsavory characters', but I was especially tired. My late-night company took some of my sleeping hours from me and so I was short one or two of 'em. However, my tips that day were pretty decent, all things considered. I was feeling pretty good. So I thought maybe I'd stop in at the grocery store before reaching home. It stayed open until eleven each night, which was a major convenience for me. I needed to replenish the peanut butter and jam – plus the bread. The wind had calmed down some, so that was a relief. Still, the walk was a cold one, just the same.

I was just coming up to the block where the store was when this skinny kid jumped out from the shadows. He had a gun and aimed it shakily at my chest. He must have been all of fifteen. The streets were pretty quiet, not too many people out for a walk this time of night. Especially at this time. I was virtually on my own. So, what's new?

"I want your money – all of it!" he demanded with a voice not yet accustomed to such words.

"You new at this, kid?" I asked sarcastically. I could see him shake as he stood there in front of me. Maybe it was the cold, but I didn't think so. His expression showed fear. Now, it's probably not a smart thing to go off like I did with someone holding a gun at you; especially if the hand that's holding the gun is shaking. But, I was never one to back down too easily from someone trying to make my life more miserable than it already was.

"No." was his less than convincing reply.

"Look, if you're trying to be part of a gang, try a different hobby, okay? This one has a one way ticket to jail written all over it!" I bartered.

The kid was definintely terrified. And...definitely NOT gang material. But, this was the worse part of town so maybe 'terrified' was an attribute necessary for survival? Made you smarter, kept you alive. At least, for a while.

"Say, why don't you put your gun down and I'll just give you what you want, okay?" I suggested. "That way, I'll be doing you a favor and then you can actually sleep tonight knowing it didn't take a gun to get the money?"

I waited.

"Just give me your money, B-tch!" His confidence, and his vocabulary, was starting to grow.

"Do you even know what that word means?" I asked as I reached into my purse. He watched me very carefully as I did, too.

"Yeah, it means you!" he barked menacingly.

I just love a good play on words.

Anyway, I drew out my tip purse and started to open it, but he grabbed it out of my hands and took off.

"Your welcome!" I hollered out to him, watching him hightail it around the corner.

"Blast," I grumbled out loud, "Only one more block and I'd been in that store."

I stood there for a moment as the fallout of my getting robbed hit me. I started to shake, which I thought rather interesting. It wasn't the first time I'd stared down the barrel of a gun, but it was the first time it was a kid who had done it. As I thought about it, a kid close to the age Brandi would have been. Maybe that's why my reaction was so severe this time. Too many throw-away kids whose parents were either too busy or too distracted to pay them any mind. Was it any wonder kids got involved with gangs and turn to a life of crime in the first place? It just saddened me.

Finally reacquainting myself with mobility, I started moving forward once again. I don't know how long I stood there on that snowy sidewalk, but my hands were pretty cold. Usually I sans the gloves since the walk is short enough not to worry about them. I decided to head into the grocers just to warm up and have a little chit chat with the owner, Gracie. She and I usually allow about ten minutes each time I visit to just catch up on whatever's happening in the neighborhood. Guess it's my turn to start the conversation this time.

However, just as I approached the front door to the market, I spied something on the ground in front of it. I looked closer, not believing what I was actually looking at.

"How'd that get there?" I asked in amazement.

My tip purse was lying in the snow as if it had just been placed there. I approached a little on the wary side, looking around and wondering what kind of cruel joke was being played out on my behalf. I nudged the purse with my boot and decided that it was indeed real. So, I bent down and picked it up and noticed right away that it was still full!

"Humph, the kid must have….no, he went around the corner; so he couldn't have even come this way. Not without my seeing him. Still, I was sort of in shock back there. Hmm.." I just had to make sure. Opening the purse I found all of my tip money – and a note.

"Ah, I finally made contact with that kid's conscious!" I thought smugly. I was pretty confident my warning about a one-way ticket to jail had penetrated his thick, profane skull.

Pulling the neatly folded note out and opening it with my near-frozen fingers, what I read totally floored me. This is what was written and I quote,

"Thanks for the sandwiches and milk last night. The guys at home appreciate your generosity. Turned the cans in and we're actually going to have pizza tonight for dinner! You're the best! Signed Mike."

"Well, whaddya know." I smiled, shaking my head in amazement.

My smile was the second one in as many nights, too.

How 'bout that!