Sometimes he thought he would die, and he knew what happened to people who died. People like him, people would just walk over a dead body. People like him, who slept in the alley sometimes even women in pretty makeup and clothes or large men who fell in the alleyway. Either way, it would make no difference, the bodies left to rot in the street. It felt like madness: Uriel would always would sit them up or move them, so they would not get stepped on. But he knew no one would probably move him when he died.
So now, when he sat in the snow, he made sure to be leaned up against one of the empty dumpsters, too wet to make a fire and a lot of the people he used to sit with were dead. He didn't know how they started those fires that kept the cold away, he hadn't learned that trick yet. That's why he had tried to stay in the warm shop. But people wouldn't step on him or over him, not when he died. No. He would die leaning and out of the way so that no one would step on him.
Looking upwards Uriel looked for the stars. The alley way at least kept the wind from blinding him, and muted the smell of the trash to not be so bad, but there were no stars. Not a single one. He kinda hoped, slightly at least when he passed he would see the same ones his mama did. Or maybe that if he didn't see them when he felt himself starting to slip that it wasn't his time to die yet, no matter how much everything hurt. But he knew he was going to die, he was already starting to not feel the cold anymore. That was another trick, to be able to tell when it was coming. Hot chocolate dropped outside of the store when he had began to cry, eyes no longer burning with tears, but closed. Frozen tears clinging to lashes, eyes half lidded but seeing nothing. Chapped lips blue now, but not just from the cold. Wrags of clothing going rigid as was the boy's body. The wind stopped howling, his chest had stopped moving. A wetness began to fall down his cheeks, but not hot salty tears but a new layer of snow.
Uriel wouldn't see the sun again even if he had bought that stupid hot chocolate to get to stay in the warm store or all those years ago had set off in the morning with the carnival rather than with Mrs. Myrtle. Either option, Uriel could have lived. Instead, he was not found until days later becoming another statistic, becoming another nameless body plucked off the streets.
Hauled away the same day as the dumpster, nothing investigated just like