The lamplighters had done their jobs – the street glowed in a golden light. Seen from within, the lantern cast stained glass shadows on the sconces as if they too were ablaze.

She knew she should not have hidden in the church, but the night was cold, and the cobbles of the street even colder. Her thin dress, thread-weary shawl, and slipper-shoes were nothing against the wicked winds scuttling snow along the streets.

Turned out again, she sought shelter where she may. The church offered so many places to hide, and she loved the stained glass shadows as they crept across the pews.

She knew how to be gone well before day snatched night from the sky, a few bitter hours huddled in the doorway, perchance before her drunken step-father stumbled out and she could return. To help Moma, no doubt bruised and crying, survive another day.

Written for Sue…