When I walked in the office, everyone was at their desks, working as usual. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so I was surprised to hear a shrill voice break the silence.

“Carol!” Steven’s face, flushed red, peered over the cubicle wall.  “Goodness, Stevie, what’s wrong?”, I queried, having some idea of what it was.

“Williams is driving me nuts!”, fumed Steven. “He said he wanted the numbers on that old mission they want to tear down, but I told him that county didn’t give us the go ahead. I told him I wasn’t going to do a bunch of work just to have it thrown out because some “do-gooder” got a judge to issue a stay.” “What do you think I should do?”

“Well, then I guess he’ll just have to wait then, won’t he?”  Unhappy with my answer, Steven, eyes open wide in surprise, and discouraged at my lack of enthusiasm for his tirade, turned around and walked quickly back to his office.

I wonder if she’ll be sitting there again tomorrow morning? It’s a good thing the mission still is open, because the weatherman’s predictions were pretty gloomy for tonight. It’s calling for snow, snow and more snow.

I stood there, as if frozen, wondering why she thought I would have anything for the likes of her? The sour stench of her clothing engulfed my senses, and I made the effort to leave, quickly.

“Here,” I muttered, hoping nobody saw me. Unless one looked closely, they would almost miss the fine stitching of the threadbare glove on her outstretched hand. Although it had seen better days, and was hidden by stains, it had been a very fine glove. One that I myself would have owned. Yet there was something…

She accepted my meager offering with a gracious, and thankful spirit. “Thank you, ma’am, God bless you!”

I merely nodded and made haste to leave her presence. The cold February wind urged me on to my errand.  “Hmmm.  I wonder where she could have gotten that glove? It seems familiar.”