Muriel ducked into the homeless shelter, replaced the Armani wrap with her favorite cotton apron, and ladled soup into styrofoam cups.

"Why you work here, Miss?" a spike-haired girl asked, between gulps.

Muriel smiled, handed the girl a pint of milk, thinking only of the man she'd lost.

For three years now, she'd served food, watched the door, and left empty-handed.

When Harry stumbled in, Muriel's breath stopped, her heart pounded. She fell into his arms and kissed him, without regard for whiskers or whiskey breath. "I love you," she said, "Let's go home."

© 2009 . Site developed by L7soft.