It was in the cold morning that I first saw the shabby little boy around ten years old in rags. He was trying to cover himself with whatever was left of his torn shawl.
I went inside after collecting the newspaper from the mailbox, switched on the coffee pot and sat on the sofa closest to the fireplace.
I got busy with my chores and it was afternoon when suddenly the doorbell rang. It was a parcel from my parents which had my Christmas gift. As I turned to go back in I got a glimpse of the shabby boy again. He was now lying at the same place all wrinkled up in himself. Brushing away the sight I went in to get ready as I had to go shopping for Christmas, which was only the day after.
While I was looking for a dress for myself to wear at the Christmas party, suddenly the image of the shabby boy pulling up his torn shawl crossed my mind. I just couldn't shop anymore! Hurriedly I went to the kids section in the store and picked up a few clothes and a jacket for the shabby boy.
As the car stopped in front of my house, my eyes were only searching him. There he was all cuddled up in himself. I ran toward him and called him a couple of times. He was motionless. With shaking hands I tried to wake him up but no response. My heartbeat was speeding up. ' Was I late to act' , 'I should have done this in the morning only.' ' I should have called him in', and many such thoughts crossed my head in a flash. Consolidating myself I tried to feel his pulse, It was there,(thank God!) slow, but still there.
I picked him in my arms, took him in, covered him with warm blankets and when he regained consciousness offered him hot milk and food.
Christmas came and we sat on the sofa closest to the fireplace, with our gifts under the Christmas tree. Me and the boy, (shabby no more).