The icy chill of the cold, November evening that marked the first snowfall of the year could not even compare to the chill in John Burke's heart. As he walked the four blocks from the corner store to his apartment with a gallon of milk in his hand, he stared down at the ground, lest he catch the eye of one of the few people who ventured out on a night like this in the otherwise silent and deserted streets. He didn't want to talk to them. He didn't even want to acknowledge their existence. Fortunately, most people had shut themselves up inside their warm homes, cut off and protected from the elements. Nobody wanted to be out in this weather.

Nobody but John Burke. He preferred it like this. It wasn't that he enjoyed the cold; on the contrary, he had himself bundled up against the chill of the autumn night like any sane person. But the weather kept the crowds at bay, leaving him alone. He detested crowds, the sounds of people talking or children laughing, the sounds of life that reminded him that his was not yet over.

Agoraphobia, some might call it. An unreasonable fear of being in public. Others might call it misanthropy. John simply called it, "hatred of the human race."

Why he didn't just commit suicide and end the nightmare, he didn't know. It had been ten years, after all, since his life had essentially come to an end. Now he had nothing left, no reason to go on living any more. But still he continued, day in and day out, hating life but fearing death.

He had managed to procure a job working from home, which was the only thing keeping him sane. It didn't pay well, but at least he didn't have to spend much time around other people. Sometimes he went weeks without speaking to another human being. He didn't know his neighbors, even the ones in the same apartment building. He was a recluse, a hermit. A thousand years ago he might have wandered out into the country away from civilization, to live his life in solitude and simplicity. But there were no longer any places left where civilization didn't encroach, so he had to do the best with what he had.

He spotted a gray sedan driving down the street, not unlike the car he used to own, the car that had played a central point in many of his nightmares over the past ten years. Those horrible dreams had diminished in frequency and intensity lately, for which he was grateful, but it only took the sight of a similar vehicle to bring it all back to the forefront of his memory.

It had been summer then, a bright and cool morning full of hope and promise. He had considered himself the happiest man in the world. With a good job, a modest house, and most importantly a loving family, his future looked bright. Nothing could ruin things for him. Or so he thought.

It was supposed to be a simple trip to the park with his young wife and three-year-old girl Mary. He could remember it so vividly. How many times had he replayed those events over and over in his mind, wondering if he could have done something, anything, to change things? If he could just take it all back, if he could just do it all over again, things would turn out differently. He would still be happy.

But he had made a simple mistake that had ruined everything. He had turned on the car and placed Mary in her car seat, then headed back inside for a moment to gather the picnic basket and blanket. His wife was in the bathroom doing some last-minute finishing touches to her makeup before joining them. John had meant to be inside for only a moment, but then the phone rang. Some annoying telemarketer who wouldn't take no for an answer. The call lasted two minutes.

Two minutes. Plenty of time for a carjacker to sneak into the driveway and snatch an unlocked vehicle with the motor running.

He tried unsuccessfully to put that memory out of his mind. Mary! he thought. Where are you now? Are you happy, wherever you are? Have you found a family that loves you as much as I did? Are you even still alive?

He stared around at the cold, faceless buildings, finding a certain solace in his isolation. For months after the incident he had wondered who the carjacker was. He saw that man in every face; every human being was part of the same species as the man who had taken his daughter away from him. That a person was capable of committing such a horrible act had destroyed all faith he had in his fellow man. In every heart lay the potential to become that same fiend, that devil who would kidnap a child and ruin her father's life.

So he had withdrawn from society, hiding within himself and abhorring all contact with the outside world. His wife, to her credit, had stuck by him for three whole years. Somehow she had managed to put the incident behind her, and she had encouraged him to do the same. But he couldn't. So finally, she had asked for a divorce, and he had agreed immediately. Last he heard, she had remarried and was living happily with a man who could give her what John could not. He carried no grudge; only the tiniest regret for what might have been.

Just then, he felt someone move up beside him and take his arm. He glanced down in surprise and saw a girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, with rosy red cheeks and long brown hair. Other than the color that the cold had given to her cheeks, she looked a bit pale. She gazed up at him with pretty hazel eyes.

"Take me home with you," she said.

He blinked. Then, seeing that that had accomplished nothing, he blinked again. If he thought that any amount of blinking would make her vanish, he was mistaken. She stubbornly refused to disappear, but stood frozen to her spot, unmoving except for her chattering teeth. Now he noticed that she was a rather thin girl wearing a coat that was probably too small for this chill. What she was doing out on a night like this dressed in clothes completely unsuited for the weather, he didn't know.

"What?" he asked.

"Take me home with you," she repeated. "I mean, let's go back to your place and ... um ... spend the night together."

What was he supposed to make of that? Or of her, for that matter? She was a pretty girl, if a bit dirty, but altogether too young for him. Too young to be propositioning any man for that matter. Was she a prostitute? Or was this some kind of police sting? No, they only did that to Internet predators, and they used young-looking adult women for the task. While it was possible that she was older than she seemed, she couldn't be more than fifteen or sixteen even taking that into consideration, much too young to be used as bait in that kind of operation.

"Do I know you?" he asked, just in case he was wrong in his assumptions. He didn't even have to feign ignorance or innocence; it was completely true.

"I'm Cassie," she smiled, but he could still hear her teeth chattering behind that smile. "I saw you walking along down the street and I thought it would be nice to get to know you better."

"But ... coming home with me ... you're talking about..."

"Going to bed with you, yes," she replied. Then she stamped her feet, as if to wake them up. "But let's not stand out here in the cold talking about it. Let's just do it."

Then he noticed something in her eyes that he hadn't seen before: a bit of worry. Perhaps it could be a result of nervousness; who wouldn't be nervous in her situation? But there was a much more reasonable explanation.

"Cassie," he said, "if I said no, would you have anywhere else to sleep tonight?"

The smile on her face vanished as she lowered her gaze, and he realized he had hit upon the truth. This girl was homeless, desperate, and likely to freeze to death if she couldn't find shelter for the night.

It would be a terrible inconvenience for him. She would violate his personal domain, entering his haven from the world and from humanity. He would have no retreat from the din and cacophony of civilization. He wished he could simply walk away, leaving her behind to seek out another source of shelter.

But if he did that, she might not survive the night. In the eyes of the law he would be well within his rights to refuse her, but he would be convicted by his own conscience, to serve a sentence far greater than that which society could ever impose upon him.

"Come on," he said, and her face brightened up once more with a smile. He turned and headed back toward his apartment, the girl at his side cheerfully following along. He glanced around, expecting at any moment to see half a dozen police cars surrounding him, possibly accompanied by a full television crew. The street remained mostly deserted though, and he figured he had already passed the crisis point when he accepted her offer. The truth was, he had no intention of sleeping with her. Even just talking with her would be a chore; he didn't want human company of any kind. She would spend the night in his apartment not for the sake of friendship or companionship, but merely for survival. Then tomorrow, he would figure out some other more permanent arrangement to keep her off the street. There had to be a shelter or an orphanage or something in the city who could take her.

"So what's your name?" Cassie asked cheerfully as they walked.

"John," he replied simply.

"It's nice to meet you, John."

"Mm," he mumbled.

His apartment was only another couple of blocks away, inside a building with a plain front, quite inconspicuous actually. That suited John perfectly; it reminded him of himself.

He could hear Cassie sigh as soon as they passed through the front door into the building's stairwell. Though it wasn't particularly warm, at least it cut out the chill of the cold, November night. They ascended two flights of stairs, then John fished in his pocket for his keys as the two of them walked down the hall to his front door. Unlocking the door, he stood aside and motioned for Cassie to go on in.

The first thing he did after closing the door behind him was turn up the thermostat. Normally he liked to keep it cool to save on the heating bill, but for Cassie's sake he set it up much higher.

He glanced over at the girl and saw her unzipping her coat, her hands shaking so hard that she was having a difficult time with it. No doubt about it; the girl was half frozen already. How long had she stood there watching the snow falling down, with a growing feeling of despair as she knew that she had to do something or she wouldn't wake up in the morning? Perhaps even after she had hatched upon her plan, she had watched passers-by hurrying to get indoors, too nervous or embarrassed to go through with it. Had John been her first choice, or her twenty-first?

"Come here," he said, motioning her over to him. He helped her out of her coat, then hung it up on a peg on the wall. Then he took her hands, noticing with alarm how icy cold they felt.

"You're freezing!" he exclaimed. He placed her hands together between their bodies, then wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest. She pressed her cheek up against him, and he reached up with one of his hands and stroked her hair. He hadn't hugged anyone in years. He didn't like it, not since the disappearance of his daughter and his subsequent disillusionment with the human race. But this was an emergency, and he found it surprisingly pleasant.

The chattering of her teeth and the trembling of her frame slowly faded, and he felt the chill of her body disappear, swallowed up in warmth. Even after the danger had passed and she was back to normal, she made no move to pull away from him. He continued holding her there for another two minutes, then finally broke away.

"Thank you," she said meekly, staring at the floor.

"It's all right," he smiled. Despite his earlier fears, he found that he didn't mind her presence here all that much at all. There was a certain cheeriness that came from having a pretty girl in his apartment, a lessening of the gloom and melancholy that had haunted his life for the past ten years. Perhaps he would settle down into his depression again in a while, but for now he actually enjoyed having her here.

"Is it..." she stammered, "is it all right if we have some supper before we... ?" But she couldn't complete the sentence, and the redness that returned to her cheeks had nothing to do with the cold weather.

"Listen, Cassie," he said in as soft a voice as he could manage. "I didn't bring you back to my apartment to have sex with you."

"You didn't?" she asked, her eyes opening wide in astonishment.

"No," he smiled. "I did it to get you out of the cold. Tomorrow we'll figure out a more permanent arrangement so you never have to sleep on the street again, but you're welcome to sleep here tonight."

"But I thought..." she started, but again couldn't finish the sentence.

"Thought what?"

"I thought ... all men were only interested in..."

"Whatever gave you that impression?" he asked. "Most men are perfectly nice..." Now it was his turn to be astonished. For ten years he had had no faith in his fellow man, and now suddenly he was telling this girl that people were all right after all? Did he really believe that?

"That's not what my dad said," said Cassie.

"Well he was wrong. I'm sure he loved you very much--"

"No he didn't," she interrupted, staring at the floor.

"What are you talking about?"

"He went and got himself thrown in prison, dumping me on the street without a home or anyone I could turn to. So I thought maybe if I offered myself..."

"Well, there's no need for that. Tonight, you're going to sleep in my bed, but I'm going to take the couch."

"Oh, you don't have to go that far," she insisted, her gloom once more replaced by a smile. "The couch will be fine with me."

"I wouldn't hear of it."

"I'm not going to kick you out of your own bed. Just give me a blanket and a pillow and I'll sleep on the couch. It looks nice and comfortable anyway."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay, the couch it is. But if you change your mind--"

"I won't."

"Fine. Now, about supper. I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook, but I do have some leftover spaghetti in the fridge. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes in the microwave. It's either that or wait a lot longer while I attempt to fix something else that may or may not turn out."

"Spaghetti sounds delicious," she smiled.

"Good. The bathroom's down the hall. You go wash up, and I'll heat up the food. Do yourself a favor and run your hands under the warm water for a few minutes before coming back to eat."

Cassie found the bathroom and disappeared inside. John opened the fridge and pulled out the leftover spaghetti. He had figured it would provide at least three more meals, but with two mouths to feed it might not even last one, depending upon how hungry Cassie was. Fortunately, he had a head of lettuce and some carrots and celery, which he could quickly throw together as a salad, as well as a loaf of bread that would make decent garlic toast with a touch of butter and garlic powder. He preferred French bread for garlic toast, but this would have to do.

He paused, surprised and a bit amused at how much thought he was putting into dinner. Being a bachelor, he usually ate a one-dish meal. Anything more was reserved for special occasions, of which he had had very few in the last decade. Now it almost seemed like he was celebrating.

It's just to make sure she has enough to eat, he told himself.

By the time he placed the spaghetti in the microwave and gathered the ingredients for the side dishes, Cassie returned to the kitchen.

"Do you want to help?" he asked.

"Can I?"

"Sure. You start buttering the bread while I break up the lettuce for the salad."

They set to work preparing the meal, and John couldn't help but notice how enthusiastically she worked. It almost seemed like she had never been asked to help fix dinner before. He didn't know much about her father, but Cassie didn't seem to think too highly about him, so he probably hadn't been the greatest dad in the world. He felt sorry for this girl that seemed to enjoy John's company even more than that of her father. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy.

They threw the garlic toast in the oven and then placed the spaghetti and salad on the table. Cassie didn't hesitate, but scooped out a big plate full of spaghetti, probably more than was healthy for a girl like her to eat. He wondered how long it had been since her last meal.

She gulped it down hungrily, and he realized that she was probably famished. She might get stomach aches eating like that, but at least her belly would be full. She was halfway through the plate of spaghetti before the garlic toast even came out of the oven.

John didn't feel much like talking during the meal, not that that was anything strange for him. And Cassie was more concerned with stuffing her face, so they ate in silence. He was actually somewhat amused by her ravenous appetite. Perhaps she was trying to store up, not knowing when she would be able to eat again.

That brought up the subject of what to do with her tomorrow. Legally he could just dump her in the street if he wanted, but despite his misanthropic attitude, he just wouldn't feel right about that. Maybe he could call the Social Services or Child Welfare or something like that in the morning. They might frown on his taking her home with him, but if he explained that he let her sleep on his couch that night because she would have otherwise frozen to death, and that he never laid a hand on her, they might be understanding.

She went through two full plates of spaghetti and a large helping of salad, not to mention three slices of garlic toast. So much for my leftovers, he thought as he stared at the empty dish of spaghetti. But he didn't mind; it had been a long time since he had actually done something for someone else, even something as simple as sharing a meal with them. He had forgotten how good it felt.

After she finished eating, she smiled at him in gratitude. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he replied.

Cassie yawned and stretched then.

"Are you sleepy?" he asked. "It's a little early for me to go to bed, but if you want, I can make up the couch for you so you can get some sleep. I don't mind spending the rest of the evening in my bedroom."

"Maybe I'll go to bed in a little while," she said, "But I was wondering if you mind ... if you mind if I take a bath before bed?"

He thought about that. She didn't have a change of clothes, so a bath would almost be pointless because she would have to get right back into her grubbies. On the other hand, after spending so much time out in the cold, a hot bath was probably just what she needed. Let her soak away the chill of the night.

Of course, there was an easy solution to the clothing problem. He had a washer and dryer right in the bathroom. She could throw her clothes in the washer, and have them clean in an hour or so. The only problem was what to wear in the mean time.

"That's fine," he told her. "I'll get you one of my tee shirts to wear after your bath so you don't have to put your dirty clothes back on."

"Thanks," she smiled. "You're a really nice man, you know that?"

"I don't know where you got that impression," he joked, but secretly he enjoyed the compliment.

She followed him to his bedroom, where he rummaged through his drawers in search of a suitable shirt. He decided upon a plain green one that was a little too big even for him. Since her pants would naturally go into the washer with her shirt, he figured a bigger one would cover more of her legs. She probably had really nice legs for a girl her age, but it wouldn't be appropriate for him to look at them.

He handed her the shirt and led her into the bathroom. As she went over to the tub and began to fill it, he put some detergent into the washing machine and turned the dial to the setting for a small load.

"Cassie, after you undress," he told her, "just throw your clothes in here. Once the tub is filled, press this button on the washer. Don't do it before the tub is filled, or it will steal your hot water. There are towels in the closet here. Do you understand?"

She nodded. Then he had a sudden thought, and opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror above the sink. He had an unopened toothbrush there that he had bought because his current one was getting old, but he hadn't yet disposed of it. He set the new one down on the counter, along with a tube of toothpaste. "Here you go," he told her. "Be sure to brush your teeth before going to bed tonight."

John left the bathroom and closed the door behind him, listening for the telltale click as she locked it. It never came. He wondered about that; for some reason she trusted him. Not that there was any reason not to. The touch of other human beings still disturbed him, so he certainly had no inclination to molest her. But she didn't know that.

Leaving her to her bath, he opened the hall closet and withdrew a couple of blankets and a spare pillow. The pillow smelled kind of musty, so he put a new pillow case on it, then brought the bundle out to the couch, where he fixed it up to be hopefully nice and comfortable. As an afterthought, he brought out one more blanket and placed it, folded, on the floor beside the couch, just in case she got cold during the night and needed it. Then he sat down in a nearby chair and turned on the television to pass the time until she finished her bath.

He avoided the news; it was always the same depressing thing. Bad people doing bad things. Bad people like the man who had taken his Mary away from him. So he found a nice sitcom instead. Watching people in funny situations always helped to take his mind off of the gloomy depression of his own existence.

Soon enough, Cassie emerged from the bathroom. Her damp hair hung in streams about her shoulder, and the oversized tee-shirt hung limply about her figure. All cleaned up like that, he realized that she really was a pretty girl. Especially with that smile on her face. For some reason she seemed to enjoy his company.

"Here you go," he told her, indicating the couch. "You'll sleep here. If you want to watch TV before going to sleep, here's the remote. There's an extra blanket on the floor if you get cold, and you can always go into the kitchen to get a drink of water if you want. The cups are in the cupboard next to the sink. Is there anything else you need?"

She nodded.

"What?" he asked.

"Tuck me in?"

He sighed. He should have expected that. Cassie lay down on the couch, and he couldn't help but notice that he had been right about her legs. They were rather nice. He only allowed himself a quick glimpse at them; he shouldn't be thinking things like that after all. Then he drew up the blanket over her.

He was about to leave, but she immediately grabbed his hand. "Don't go," she said. "Stay here and talk to me." She gazed up at him with a happy yet pleading look in her eyes, and he found that her touch was not as disturbing as he expected it to be.

"You wouldn't like me talking to you," he mumbled. "I'm not a very good conversationalist."

"I don't mind," said Cassie.

He sighed in resignation, and pulled up the nearest chair. Cassie refused to release his hand, so he simply let her hold it.

"So what do you want to talk about?" he asked her.

"Let's talk about you," she smiled.

"I'd rather not."

"Why not? Is there something wrong?"

"Yes. But that's all I'm going to say about that."

"Oh, come on, John. Don't be like that. Look, if it will make it any easier, why don't you just answer my questions. Are you married?"

"No."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Do you live here alone?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you get married?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Were you ever married?"

"Yes."

"What happened to your wife?"

"We split up."

"Why?"

"You're really nosy, you know that?" he asked.

"Just trying to be friendly." She said it with a smile on her face, and he immediately felt bad about snapping at her. There was something about this girl that intrigued him. She had gone through hard times herself, and yet somehow, she remained cheerful throughout the ordeal. She was friendly, outgoing, cheery, in short just the opposite of him.

"So what about you?" asked John, deliberately changing the subject.

"What do you want to know about me?"

"Well ... do you go to school?"

"No," she replied. "My dad didn't want me to."

"You mean he home-schooled you?"

She shook her head. "He ignored me."

"You mean you haven't ever gone to school?" asked John, shocked. "Does that mean you're illiterate?"

"No," she replied, then with a note of pride in her voice, added, "I taught myself how to read."

"Really?" he asked.

"My dad didn't want me going to school because he didn't want anyone to know he had a daughter. So I begged him to buy me some books so I could learn to read on my own. At first he couldn't be bothered to buy them, but I pestered him until he gave in just so that I would stop bugging him about it. He got me some first-grade level books and I started there, then I started getting on the Internet and reading everything I could."

"That's pretty impressive," said John, and he meant it. This was a bright young girl, a girl who had been given a horrible deal, but who had made more of it than he thought possible.

"So why didn't your dad want anyone to know he had a daughter?" asked John.

"That's something I'd rather not talk about," she replied simply.

He really couldn't fault her for such an answer; he had been as reluctant, if not more so, to speak about his past. Though he was still curious about her, he decided not to push it.

"So do you have any friends?" he asked instead, changing the subject.

"Just one."

"That's good. Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A man," she smiled. "You."

He stared at her. He hadn't been anyone's friend in ten years. Why should this little girl, who hardly knew him, consider him a friend? True, he had taken her in, given her food and a place to sleep for the night, but he hadn't been particularly sociable or friendly. She could learn a thing or two about trusting strangers.

He heard the buzzer on the washer, so he got up and headed into the bathroom to throw her clothes into the dryer. He noticed as he handled them that they were a little threadbare and frayed along the edges, and he wondered how often her father had bought her new things. The man sounded like a real creep, the type who should get locked up for child neglect. Well, he was behind bars now, probably for something unrelated because otherwise Cassie would be in protective custody right now.

He turned on the dryer, then returned to the living room. Why he did that, he didn't know. He would have been much more comfortable just staying in his own bedroom until the clothes were done. But something intrigued him about this girl. For some reason, it didn't really bother him to be spending time with her.

She gave him a smile when he sat down in the same chair. Fortunately, she didn't take his hand this time, but continued to stare at him. It wasn't a stare of surprise, or curiosity, or even boredom. She had a smile on her face the whole time, as if she were just happy to be looking at him.

To get his mind off it, he decided to strike up a conversation.

"So how long were you on the street?" he asked her.

"Um ... four days," she said.

"Four days?"

She nodded. "Four days ago was when my dad got arrested. I came home and saw a whole bunch of police cars out in front of my house. So I ran away."

"Why did you run?"

"Because I didn't want to go to prison."

"Why would you go to prison?"

She shrugged. "Cops always find a reason. If they don't like you, they'll plant drugs on you or something. Then you go to prison and get gang raped in the showers."

"Who told you that?"

"My dad."

John sighed. Clearly her father had been teaching her the wrong things.

"Cassie, it sounds like your dad just didn't like police. And for good reason. He was a criminal. So you shouldn't take everything he says at face value. Most police are good, honest people who want to protect you, not arrest you."

"How do you know my dad was a criminal? Maybe the cops just made something up so they could arrest him."

"Do you believe that?" he asked.

She stared at him for a minute. "No," she finally said. "I know my dad did a lot of things he shouldn't have, so you're probably right. Anyways, it doesn't matter now."

"Right. From now on things will be different. You'll be taken care of."

"Are you going to take care of me?"

"No. Tomorrow I'm going to figure out what to do with you, but I promise, I won't just throw you out on the street. And I won't call the police either."

"Can't I stay here with you?"

"No."

"Please? I promise I won't be a nuisance."

"Cassie, you're a sweet girl, but I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to give you what you need. You need to find a family who will love you and care for you. I feel really sorry for you if you think I'm a nice man. You'll find out soon enough that there are a lot better people than me in this world."