My first week of work flew by. Friday morning arrived, and I struggled to motivate Charlie to dress as usual. I swear moms who don't lose their shit by the end of the day deserve an award. Especially single moms. Hell, forget the prize; I'd settle for a sweet cookie instead.

"Charlie, move your tush, or else I'm taking the iPad away for a week!"

A massive crash erupted from his bedroom, and I knew my threat put a fire under him, as I hoped it would. I stood in the kitchen with Charlie's lunch bag in tow, along with my purse draped over my shoulder and my new cozy cashmere scarf wrapped around my neck.

I swore at the television as the weatherman promised temperatures in the teens for today.

Damn, I hated winter.

Why couldn't my firm be in Florida or California? I sighed as I dreamt about warmer days and prayed winter would pass swiftly this year.

"I'm ready, Mom!" Charlie scrambled from his Star Wars bedroom and skidded to a halt before me.

"Did you brush your hair?"

He nodded.

"And, your teeth?"

"Yes! Now let's get on the road before you make us late." Charlie chuckled, and I rolled my eyes. He was growing up way too fast. What would I do when he grew up, though? If the sass began at nine, what would the kid be like at nineteen? I shuddered at the thought.

I shook away my thoughts about my only child becoming a man and glanced around as I tried to think if I was forgetting anything. The apartment was in better shape every day, but we still had a lot of work to do. I knew if I worked less, I’d have more time to clean the place up, but I couldn’t see that happening any time soon.

The ivory walls were recently painted, and the chestnut hardwood floors sparkled in the daylight. The living room windows spanned the length of one wall, which revealed a stunning view of the city. The apartment was spacious without being obnoxious. Charlie and I were comfortable and at ease in our new digs.

Once I assured myself I wasn't forgetting anything I needed for the day, Charlie and I headed down to the complex's private parking ramp. Charlie hopped into the backseat of the car and held out his hand expectantly.

"How may I help you?" I taunted as I started the car.

"C'mon, Mom! I was ready when you asked me to be!"

"But, how many times did I have to ask?"

Charlie lowered his head, and I couldn't help but snicker. It was far too easy to trick that kid. I handed him his iPad and drove toward his school.

"Are you ready for your spelling test today?" I inquired as we turned the corner, his school now in view.

"Oh yeah. I'm going to make you proud, Mama," Charlie promised while he played his game. I smiled when his tongue fell slightly out of his mouth. It was his "concentration" face.

"Well, I can't wait to hear all about it," I said. "Okay, bud. We're here."

Charlie moaned but did a few last second things with his game. I assumed he was saving his progress and turning it off. He handed it to me as he stretched from the backseat closer to me.

"Love you," he said and kissed my cheek.

My heart fluttered, and I wished him a good day at school. No matter how old Charlie grew, there was nothing better than a kiss and hug from my baby. He'd always be my baby, even when he stood taller than me someday.

I watched and made sure he made it into the building all right and pulled out of the commuter circle. A few other moms waved awkwardly toward me, and I returned the favor with a half-smile. I'd been asked to join the PTA once Charlie transferred, as if I had free time to spare. Most nights, after Charlie went to bed, I pored over open cases with a glass of wine. It was always hard to disconnect from work even when I was home. I guess it was better to focus on my clients' problems than worry about my own.

I glanced at the temperature on my dashboard and winced. I'm pretty sure humans weren't meant to live in a place where the air hurt their faces. Sighing heavily, another thought popped into my mind: what would the homeless man be doing on a day like this? Would the shelter open for emergencies? Surely he could find a place to rest until the air warmed up a bit?

My chest seized as I wondered about the man. I thought about what I could do to help. Could I give him money? But, then again, what if he used it for drugs or booze or something? I mean, he seemed innocent enough, but you never really knew these days.

A familiar green sign came into view while I drove through the snow and the slush. I quickly flicked my signal and turned into the Starbucks parking lot. Maybe an appetizing hot chocolate would be the appropriate gesture for him. It couldn't hurt to try, right?

I ordered a grande espresso with a vanilla flavor shot and a venti hot chocolate for the man without a home. If I could bring him a few moments of warmth for the day, well, that would be something—and better than nothing.

Once I pulled out of the Starbucks lot, my office was only a short drive away. I reached my designated parking lot and braced myself for the swoosh of frigid air about to bitch-slap me in the face. I closed my eyes and stepped out of the car with both drinks in a recyclable paper carrier. I tiptoed through the snow and cursed the owners of the lot for not plowing yet.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Then, I cursed myself for not buying the tall Uggs on Black Friday because the shorties weren't cutting it at all; my ankles were soaked and frozen. I couldn't catch a damn break!

As I approached the bench, I wasn't sure if I wanted him to be there or not. If he wasn't there, then I'd spend the rest of the day worrying about where he could be and if he was safe. If he was there, well, then I'd still spend the rest of the day worrying about him too. I didn't quite understand my fascination with the man. I mean, that sleeping bag isn’t some kind of antique. I’m sure tons of other people have the same one. All I knew was that it didn't appear like anyone else gave a shit about him. Maybe I could be the one person who did?

My hands quivered either with nerves or because of the cold. The bench stood a hundred yards away, and the sleeping man snoozed away at his post. His beard appeared long and flowing. I wondered when the last time he shaved was? His tattered, burgundy sleeping bag was zipped all the way to his neck as he lay inside of it on the bench, under a tree with breathtaking snowflakes hugging its branches.

My pace slowed, and my heart thudded through my shirt. What would I say? Should I say anything at all? What if he didn't want to be disturbed? What if he didn't like hot chocolate?

Those thoughts and more raced through my head as doubt and second thoughts crept into my mind. Without me realizing it, my feet carried me close enough to touch the man. His eyes remained shut, and I peeked over my shoulder to see if anyone had caught me standing over him. Fortunately, everyone seemed too self-absorbed and busy on their phones to notice.

I looked down at the man, and my breath caught in my throat. He was young, probably around my age if not a few years shy. I don't know what I expected, but I didn't think the man would be my peer instead of my elder. How did this happen to him?

Without warning, the man opened his eyes and gasped as he saw me standing less than a foot away, hovering over him. His swift movement caught me off guard as I cried out and accidentally tossed the Starbucks drinks into the air in fright.

I knew what was coming, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The steaming hot coffee and hot chocolate rained down upon my head. I screeched again as the liquid seared my skin and drenched me from head to foot.

Freaking gravity!

I yelped in pain, and the homeless man sat up straight, still cocooned in his sleeping bag. He cleared his throat and spoke. "Are you, uh, okay?"

My cheeks reddened as I cleared my throat. "I'm fine. Just embarrassed."

The man eyed me carefully, his gaze wild and alarmed.

"My name is Amelia," I said weakly.

"William," he said. "What are you doing over here, anyway?"

"Well, I, uh, I've seen you around, and I thought you could use some hot chocolate. It's fucking cold out." I internally chided myself for swearing like a damn sailor.

"Oh," he said.

Great, now I'd embarrassed him. I stared awkwardly at my boots and sighed. "I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say. My good deed of the day failed miserably.

"Thank you for the hot chocolate," William whispered.

"Can I take you to lunch?" I blurted out.

This time, William blushed. "No…"

"Please? I'd like to make up for my epic fail."

"No, thank you."

"I honestly don't mind," I chirped optimistically.

"I’m tired. Go away," William breathed.

He peered into my eyes, and I examined his face for the first time. A faint sparkle of the man he used to be shone through the wear and tear.

I could also see the pain etched on his face. His cheeks were sunken in, and I caught the haunted expression looking back at me. I wanted to hug him, to pull him into my arms and save him. Whenever I thought about homeless men before, I assumed they were all older, that they'd die on the streets. But, this guy? He had his entire life ahead of him. He shouldn't be out here. I reminded myself of a child, eager to take home a stray dog.

"I’m sorry for bothering you.”

He glanced away and laid back down on the bench with his back to me.

I guess that meant the conversation was over. I left his side without a goodbye and wallowed the rest of the way to my office. I wanted more than anything to help William, but I knew I couldn't help someone who didn't want to accept it.