The frigid night wind howled, as if it were a wild animal through the
back alleys as Charlie locked the doors up for the night. A long day of
work followed by a bone chilling walk home to a hot bath and a warm
cup of soup, will make any man sleep like a baby. Every night he
dreads the cold walk home and at the same time enjoys warming up in
front of the fireplace. Stepping off onto the sidewalk he is attacked by
the wind. Like a turtle withdrawing back into its shell, he ducks down
into his coat and pulls his collar up around his ears. He looks down the
street, like most every night, and waves to the officer in the patrol car
giving him the "I'm gone for the night, thanks for watching" sign. And
in return he gets one quick flash of the blue lights in response. Charlie,
a kid at heart, has always laughed when that was done. The main
street clock begins its call. It echoes through the Streets letting
everyone know in a stern calming "voice" that it is eleven at night.
This time of night the old clock doesn't have to compete with the day
life. The noises made by construction workers, traffic jams, police
sirens, or people, like lost mice looking for a hole, usually drown the
old machine out. However night is different. It's free to speak loud and
clear and feel good that Charlie is listening. He's always thought of
that clock as alive and watching his shop at night. "Take care old
friend, I'll see you in the morning", Charlie says as the clock bellows
out the last call. He can remember when they built that clock 30 years
ago and how none thought it would last: he smiles and thinks to
himself "damn, I'm old".

The same walk for ten years, the same people, the same setting,
Charlie walks down the block joking to himself about how nothing ever
changes. Through the white puffs of his breath, which, ever since he
was a kid, has made him pretend he was a train, he sees the few
homeless he passes every night. The homeless are about the only
thing that does change. Some either move on to another place or pass
away. And tonight, something indeed has changed. Charlie, like many
do, never really look when he passed them, he always kept his head
down as if counting the paces home. But, tonight something was
different. Charlie hears crying. Trying to not let it bother him, he
increased his speed and kept moving. Almost a half a block away, as
he tried to block out the guilt, Charlie was startled by what he heard.
As if that old clock was speaking to him, he heard a single hollow crack
of the clock chime. He stopped. He turned and looked back at the
clock and there was nothing but silence. "That is the oddest thing," he
thought to himself. The howling winds had calmed to a faint breeze
and all was calm...except the cries of the man up the street. The
enormous cloud of frozen breath appeared in front of Charlie's face as
he let out a deep sigh. Tonight wasn't a night Charlie could walk away.
He could hear the man try to muffle the tears as he approached.
Squatting down beside the man Charlie asked him his name. Through
the tears and a cold ridden throat a groggy voice uttered the name
"Ethan". Charlie could tell Ethan wasn't as old as "life" had made him
age. And unlike many homeless, or what people would visualize how a
homeless person to carry themselves, Charlie could tell Ethan tried to
take care of him self the best he could.

Wrapped in what seemed like an endless layer of clothing, he sits
there every night with a woman, which Charlie has always assumed
was his wife, and bundled together trying to sleep. Tonight Ethan was
alone. Charlie hesitated, then asked "Well Ethan I'm Charlie, mind If I
ask..." before Charlie could finish his question he could hear Ethan
saying, "she's gone...She's gone". "Who's gone?" Charlie asked,
knowing all too well who was gone and where this was headed. "My
wife Cindi died last night, and some men came and took her this
morning," he said. Charlie's gut sank and after a long pause of
listening to the sniffles, he let out another, steam-engine like, white
cloud, which reminded him all to well of just how cold it was out there,
and said "Come, let's go". Ethan sat there for a moment not really
knowing what to think. He then gathered his belongings, which was
nothing more than what he was wearing and a single Red-Cross
blanket given to him by a nearby shelter, and stood up. As he folded
his blanket up he asked, "Where are we going?" "Some place warm",
Charlie said as he patted Ethan's back and began to finish the walk home.

The crimson colas glowed under the scorched logs as the flame ate
their meal. The shadows in the back of the fireplace looked as if they
were dancing to the noised of the cracking wood as it was being
devoured. Ethan sipped his coffee quietly and thought of how this was
the warmest he had been in a while. Charlie, now standing at the bar,
looking at the now showered, clean-shaven, and in a new wardrobe
Ethan, thought to himself "I can't believe it's the same person." He
calmly walked over to sit with Ethan and said as he sat down. "You
know I'm lucky to still have this old house?" "Why is that?" Ethan said.
"When they started the apartment contracts it was scheduled to be
bought and torn down. But it had been here for so long it was
considered a historic landmark" Charlie said with a grin. Then his smile
disappeared as he said, " my wife and I lived in this house for forty
years, and we raised two wonderful kids, and had it all. Peggy died
three years ago this coming February." Ethan looked at him and said,
"So you know what it feels like huh?" Charlie just nodded his head.
The two sat and talked late into the night. As if they were two men in
a barbershop, they rambled on about each other's lives and what they
would and wouldn't change. Charlie knew Ethan had just been dealt a
bad hand in life and he wasn't as bad a person as society would label
him. After several cups of coffee and many stories, Ethan pulled out an
old billfold that was packed to its fullest. It looked as if it was his life,
or what he had left. He pulled out a picture and handed it to Charlie
and said, "that's My Cindi." "She's a very pretty lady, you're a lucky
man" Charlie said. Ethan sighed and gave him a teary eyed smile and
said "yeah.... I know." "Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out
a billfold and showed Ethan his wife. "That's my Peg," he said holding
up his withered old billfold. "Gorgeous woman" Ethan said as Charlie
laughed. "What?" he said with a grin. Charlie still laughing said "don't
let her sweet beautiful looks fool you, she kept me in line." They both
laughed. Then Charlie pulled out what looked to be the half of a one-
dollar bill. "See this?" he said softly, "it's half of the first dollar that
Peg and me made at that old run down shop of ours." Ethan looked at
the green piece of paper and could see that it had been taken care of
over the years. It had age and he could tell it also had a story. On the
back it had written "Love you, Peg" "We tore that bill in half the day
we made it. I've kept mine with me and she kept hers with her. I had
written the same thing on hers.."Love you, Charles" and we kept it as
a reminder." Charlie said rubbing that ragged bill between his fingers.
"After Peg died I looked over and over for it and never found it." Ethan
looked at Charlie and said, "It will turn up somewhere." Charlie shook
his head. Yawning, Charlie said, "I'm going to bed, there's a spare
room down the hall you can use." Ethan smiled and said "Thank you
I'm gonna' sit here a while longer, sleep well." Charlie patted him on
the shoulder as he left for his bedroom.

The next morning Charlie woke up and walked in to the spare room.
"Ethan, I've been thinking. I could use some help at the shop and If
you..." Charlie stopped talking as he noticed the room was empty. The
bed was nice and made up, like it hadn't even been slept in. The
clothes he gave Ethan to wear were folded up nicely and placed on the
bed. There on top of the clothes was a note that said "Thank You,
Ethan". Charlie didn't see Ethan on his way to work that morning. But
on the way he did see workers working on the malfunction the clock
had the night before. As he entered the shop he thought,
"maybe I'll see him tonight."

All day Ethan was on Charlie's mind. He wondered where he could
have gone and if he would be out side when he left. Charlie finished
his nightly routine and started out the door. Stepping out side he
noticed three things, it was 5 after eleven and the clock hasn't spoken
a word, the patrol car wasn't sitting down the block, and there wasn't
any wind. He knew the clock was being repaired, and that the patrol
car more than likely had a call. But the wind, it had been blowing like
that for a week and it's stopped all of a sudden. Charlie had a strange
feeling about this night. He pulled his collar up around his ears as
usual and began walking home like he does every night. He passed the
spot where Ethan had been staying and where they met, but no Ethan.
He also Noticed it looked "unlived" as though someone had cleaned up
the area. He continued walking and whispered "takes care Ethan
where ever you are." About three blocks from his home, Charlie was
deep in thought not paying too much attention to his surroundings and
was brought to a halt when out of the shadows a gun was pointed at
him and a young voice said "give me the money old man" Over the
years Charlie had been in this situation many times and knew how to
act and to also not carry his money or valuables on him when he
wasn't driving. "Sorry son, I don't have any." Charlie said surprisingly
calm, which only enraged the boy even more. He could tell the boy
was nervous. The gun in his hands was shaking and the boy was
sweating, sweating, in 20-degree weather. "GIVE ME YOUR DAMN
MONEY NOW!" the now excited boy yelled. "Son all I have is some old
pictures, that is it, why don't you go home?" Charlie said as he could
feel his heart start to pound. The boy Pushed Charlie to the ground
and cocked the hammed back on the gun. Charlie closed his eyes and
before the Gun fired he heard "NO!!!" yelled out into the night. Charlie
sat there with his eyes closed tightly thinking himself shot. He opened
them to see the boy running down the street and Ethan lying in front
of him holding his chest coughing. "Oh my Dear Lord, ETHAN" Charlie
yelled as he scrambled to get to his friend. Charlie dropped down to
his side and picked Ethan up as the blood ran all out into the street,
and said, "What have you done??" Ethan couldn't speak. Charlie could
tell he didn't have much time. He gently laid Ethan down and said, "Ill
be back, I'm going to find help." " SOMEONE HELP, MY FRIEND HAS
BEEN SHOT!" he yelled and listened as it echoed down the empty
street. "ANYONE???" and once again Silence.

Charlie ran back to the place where Ethan lay but there was nothing
there. He stopped, his heart still pounding and his old lungs still
pumping, he looked around. "ETHAN??" he yelled, and all grew quiet
again. "He was right here"; Charlie said looking for the blood. Not even
the blood remained. He ran down the street thinking he may have
been farther down than he thought but still no Ethan. Walking back to
where it all happened Charlie sat down on the curb and said to himself
"I know I didn't just Dream all that." Sighing and looking out into the
street he just sat there in amazement. Then something caught his eye.
There on the sidewalk where Ethan had laid, was a piece of paper.
Charlie got up and walked over to it: he picked it up and dropped to
his knees. What Charlie had picked up was an old torn half-dollar bill
with three words written on it, "Love you, Charles."



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