There Are No Angels in Heaven
There was a woman who slept outside, across the street from the restaurant where I worked. I walked past her, sleeping there, when I was on my way to my car after work each night. There was a nook of sorts, next to a Chinese restaurant, that gave her shelter from the rain, and a wall that blocked the wind from one direction. She was thin and always pale. Her skin was weathered. Her brown hair was oily and brittle.