Panis Angelicus- Celtic Woman
A man, haggard an world weary walked along the streets on this cold winter day, his breath sifting through the air in large billows. His tattered long coat brushing the cobbled street with grey, dusty, tendrils of fabric. It was cold outside, very cold and the temperatures outside were well below freezing. The man coughed, and leant upon a wall.
He was sick, and cold, and homeless. No one had shown him any mercy this Christmas, not that he had expected it.
It was so very cold, and he was hungry he thought, leaning against the wall as his eyes began to drift into sleep.
"Good Evening," a deep, dark voice spoke beside him.
Too late, his eyes were already drooping, and he barely saw he white mask that appeared beside him.