Author's Note: An article in a newspaper inspired this story. I won't say which one, though; it may reveal too much about my location.

I MAY continue this story, but I'm not sure about that, yet. I probably will, but I'll play it by ear.

Please be mindful that this story is told in the point of view of an uneducated young girl. Therefore, her grammar reflects this.

I grinned. "No, really. Where're you goin'?"

The old man smiled, and repeated, just as seriously as before, "I'm going to the banquet on Smith Street."

We called the man 'Old Silver', after the only thing of any value he owned: a silver watch. Some of us thought he must have stolen it; I think he's too decent for that, but you never know.

The 'banquet' he spoke of, was no more than a picnic, to rich folk; to us, it was a feast. People had been talking about it for a week – there would be all kinds of sandwiches, international cheeses, crisp shrimp, and a whole lotta other stuff, besides. And Silver was going! The very idea!

"Time you learned your place in the world, Silver," I said, shaking my head.

"You're not coming?"

"They're gonna kick you out, or something," I replied, in exasperation. "Like I said, we're street folk. I wouldn't go lookin' for trouble, if I was you."

Silver looked around at the others, but their heads were bent, as they carved sticks, mended clothing, or just tried to keep warm. After a moment, he turned down Smith Street.

I shook my head at his departing back. "Poor Silver," I muttered.

"He knows what he's doing, Charlotte," said a gangly, teenage boy, beside me. He wore some dirty overalls, and a scruffy shirt; his plaid hat covered his eyes. His name was Dirk, and he'd been here even longer than me.

"Well, I warned him," I said. "That banquet's too good for us."

We all sat in front of an abandoned furniture store. 'We' meaning Dirk, Jessica, Norman, Sally, and I. Silver had been here the longest; Sally had come soon after, with Dirk. I'd been here for two years, by the time Jessica and Norman arrived.

None of us were particularly bright, or lucky. Only Dirk and Sally could read; of the two, only Sally could write. And even then, not very well.

Any money that came our way was divided evenly among the six of us. That didn't happen often, though; people are distrustful of panhandlers. We were lucky to get a five-dollar-bill, by the end of the day. But we have each other.

I was startled out of my thoughts, by the sound of Silver's boots, clomping towards us. Before I had a chance to look up, a bundle of sandwiches was placed in front of us.

Everyone was frozen in place, for a split second. Then, very slowly, Jessica's withered hand reached forward, and delicately picked up a small sandwich. Everyone was shaken from their momentary stillness, and we all began eating. Not quickly, but as slowly as possible, as if careful not to disturb this beautiful dream.

Only I didn't eat anything, immediately. I stood up, and stared at Old Silver, before throwing my arms around him. "So, you did it, after all," I said, breathing in the scent of tobacco from his pipe; that smell always seemed to hang around his long jacket.

Turning back to the others, I realized it really was Old Silver that held our group together; Old Silver who lit that look of joy in our eyes.

Feeling blessed with an unknown wealth, I went over and picked up a sandwich.