The girl on the corner. She looked cold.
I approached her, rummaging through my pockets for something--anything--to give her. Snow drifted around us. The street was emptied of people and cars. No one comes out this late.
"Hi," I said. "Here's a brownie."
She glanced up from under her fur-lined hood. The streetlamp overhead cast strange shadows across her face. I pushed the plastic-wrapped brownie toward her, and she took it reluctantly.
"What's your name?" I asked.
She stared at the brownie and her bare fingers. They must have been freezing.
"Susan," she whispered.
"Hi, Susan. I'm Carol. Can I share a brief message with you?"
When she didn't respond, I continued.
"Do you believe in God?" I asked.
She stiffened. I rushed through the next bit in case she got angry or tried to leave.
"God is real. He knows you, and he loves you."
"I know," she said suddenly. "I've seen him."
I paused. "You've seen him?"
"Thank you for the brownie," she said.
She turned abruptly and walked down the street. I tried to keep up with her, but I'd been walking all day and just wanted to go to bed. At least I could fall asleep knowing that I had done what I could to share the gospel. Still, I wanted to know her story.
As I watched, the snow swirled around her and she was gone.
On my way back, I passed the street corner where she'd been standing. There was a small wreath of flowers there, dusted with snow. A card lay on the ground nearby.
In memory of Susan, it said.
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