Literature
The Last Match
A cold evening, dark, snowing, the last one of the year even. And along that snow clad, dark, cold street was a little poor girl. A barefoot, cold girl, all alone.
When she left home she had slippers. Her mother's, big pink puffy things, way too big for her little feet, slowed her down. She lost them, ditched them behind when she had to move out the way of two incoming carriages speeding down the road. One was nowhere to be found, the other had been seized by a hideous looking man in a worse state than her and off he ran with it, no sympathy or remorse for the girl who asked for it back, who made pleading eye contact. So she carried on th