The first committed relationship in his fifty-five years. His pals noticing changes since they hooked-up - less drinking, quieter, no fighting.
Reaching the Men’s Mission, their nostrils fill with Christmas aromas. “Wait”.
Men pass smiling, she stands, anticipating. He returns, holding two dinners.
Sitting on the bench, side by side, the warmth of their bodies shuttering out the cold. A piece of turkey between his fingers, placing it on her lips. Gobbling it up, licking his fingers.
Clean plates, bellies full, standing, stretching. Catching her glaze, “Merry Christmas, girl”.