Pale face - Open

It was cold and lonely outside, wind chasing after coats and coffee cups, steaming in midnight air. He strode along, chewing his numb lips if only to bring some warmth into them. His breath curled ahead of him, meeting others and twining with them.

A cup of pennies suddenly spilled in his path, and he halted, trying not to stumble upon them.

"Sorry," a frayed, grey-haired man said, scooping up the coins with a large, milky palm. He too bent down to pick up the coins, fingertips numb.

"S'alright," he murmured, handing him the pennies and moving along. He could hardly remember the old man's pale face anymore.

The End

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