Dear Diary,
I drove the neighborhood and looked at the Christmas lights tonight. The clouds were patchy and the sky was dark. Everything seemed at peace. I had pulled over and was resting in front of a nice house with gorgeous white lights everywhere.

A few houses in front of me, a door opened.
A figure emerged carrying a backpack, followed by an obviously shouting and gesturing man. The figure spun and said a few short words before marching away down the sidewalk. The man returned inside.

The figure walked a short distance and looked around, as if lost. Then they sat on the curb and dropped the hood. Started to cry, head in hands.

She was only 14.
I walked over and she was startled until I assured her I meant no harm.

"Are you okay?"

"My papa told me to leave."

"Do you have a place to go?"

She shakes her head no. So I ask if she wants help. She nods.

"C'mon. I'll find you somewhere."

She follows. I call a good friend for advice.

"See if she has a friend she can stay with."
Genius idea. She does.

Twenty minutes later I drive away, leaving her with her best friend's family. Tell myself I did good.

Then return to an empty room to spend the night. Hopefully things turn out right.
Merry Christmas kid is my last thought before drifting off.