downtown

He came home and walked the downtown during the dark, deserted hours. No danger. No fear. But a loneliness. He recalled how it was, years earlier, with his mother and family. The corner store smelled of roasted cashews. The display windows were Christmas attractions. Figures moved mechanically. Carols played. Snow drifted down, inside and out. Bells rang. Light twinkled. Kids chattered and skated awkwardly on the rink on the square. Not this night. None of it. Times change; times changed. The wind blew hard, chasing away the memories. Homeless huddled over hot-air vents across the street from the cathedral. A man on the corner asked for change and said, “God bless.” He had only one leg.