In the heart of a bustling city, where autumn lingered in the crisp air, there wandered a woman without a home, burdened by the weight of solitude and hunger. Her weary feet shuffled along the pavement, tracing a path through the alleyways adorned with crumbling bricks and forgotten dreams.
Her name, Judith, lost among the city's symphony of voices, was a mere echo in the wind. Her eyes, once vibrant emeralds, now dulled by the harsh reality of life on the streets. She wore tattered rags that clung to her frail form, affirming the relentless passage of time.
As the golden hues of autumn leaves danced above her, the woman yearned for comfort, a respite from the biting chill that gnawed at her bones. Thanksgiving approached, and with it, the promise of warmth and nourishment that seemed forever elusive.
Through the winding streets she wandered, her footsteps echoing tales of sorrow. Her search became a quest for not only sustenance, but for a flicker of h…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Caro’s Writing Perspectives to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.