Cold, wet, shivering
Standing miserably in a dark doorway
The one I called home
A home without lights, without warmth
A shadowy figure loomed out of the
Swirling mist
A shapeless faceless figure in the dark
Without a word, without stopping
It reached out and pressed a piece of paper
Into my hand
In the damp half light of the following morning
I looked at the piece of paper, to my amazement
A lottery ticket
A few hours later I walked into a news agent
Asked the man to check the ticket
Sometime later and still in a state of shock
I walked back out
Richer by £50,000
Thank you faceless Samaritan