He hadn't planned this.
No one ever planned to be homeless.
A few more conscious passersby noticed the tragic irony of where he slept. Directly above him was a store window showcasing a fanciful adorned bed, complete with fluffed pillows, fur blankets, and satin sheets. His bed for the night – a bitter-cold, unforgiving pavement.
Those who dared soil their perfect lives by glancing his way, either thought him asleep or passed out from drunkenness. Both assumptions were wrong. In truth, he chose to close his eyes when anyone approached, feeling their disgust at his very existence. His ever-present emotion – shame.
On that night, Christmas Eve, he welcomed the quiet when the God-kissed people had retreated early to their comfortable homes. He was left all alone in the darkness, except for flickering lamp posts scattered about the street corners. Snowflakes slowly drifted down from the sky with no wind to cast them under the awning where he huddled. For a moment, his eyes saw beauty in his surroundings.
Sadly, as had been his life's path, his peace didn't last. The wind showed itself and the gentle flurries deviated into pitiless sleet and ice. He drew his coat tightly up around his neck, shivering from the unfurling storm. Immediately, his ungloved fingers felt numb. Wringing them together only brought subtle relief. To worsen matters, blowing snow settled on his coat, beard, and eyelashes, chilling him further. Desperate for warmth, he hunted around in his sole possession – a backpack – and retrieved a single long match.
Moments after he struck the match, her angelic face appeared behind the light of the flame. Not trusting his vision, he shut his eyes.
"Look at me, please. Do not be afraid," her soft voice whispered.
Her melodic voice encouraged him to take a peek. His eyes opened and stared, transfixed by her translucent skin and twinkling eyes.
"I am Joy."
She leaned forward and he retreated, pressing his back against the damp wall.
"I'm here for you," she reassured, then took his lit match and blew it out. "You don't need this anymore." With those words, she pushed her red cape back over her shoulders and untied the strings at the top of her gown, revealing creamy full breasts. "Drink, sweet man."
He trembled, drawing his knees up in front of him, so she took one breast in her hand, leaned forward again, and lifted it in offering to him. "Drink."
A sweet scent flared his nostrils, enticing him, but he shook his head in refusal. Tears filled his eyes, then streamed down, leaving a trail on his dirt-smudged face. Her mouth curled into a coaxing smile as she gently cupped the back of his head, pulling him towards her bosom.
"Drink," she whispered in his ear.
Tentatively, his mouth came down upon one of her breasts and his lips closed around her nipple. He began to suck.
At first, his sucking was timid, but quickly turned ravenous as his body enjoyed the tasty milk. Her slender fingers carefully detangled the knots in his long hair as he drank. Before long, his hair hung to his shoulders in smooth tendrils.
