A strong wind blew through the city. Past the silent high-rises and all the deserted streets. Past all the dirty sidewalks and closed shops. Past every street where there had ever been a trace of life. Past all the dirty streets where you could once hear the echoing sounds of children's laughter. But now it was quiet. The night had fallen over the city and not a soul was out on this bitterly cold winter evening. The entire city was a mixture of dark blue and gray hues and it was almost as if the trees were also shaking from the cold as they rocked back and forth, the wind stroking their bare branches.

Not a single person could be seen and all the lights in the houses had long been turned off, all but one. There was still a single lamp that still cast its dim light over a small, pitiful body. A lamp that was in one of the abandoned houses. In the house that was different from all the others and that was a little further away. In the house that no one ever noticed. There was a boy there. He was the only one still awake even though the sun had set long ago and the moon now spread its cold light over the naked buildings. While all the other people were fast asleep, safely tucked under the warmth of their covers, he was still awake. He had hardly slept at all for the past few days.

He shook, laying on the floor and praying that he'd get to see the sun again. His skin had lost its rosy warm color and the light in his eyes had gone out, like a fire once it devoured all the wood. The light that had once shone so brightly that it could illuminate an entire city was no longer there. His teeth were chattering and the only thing that could be heard were his small, quiet breaths and his stomach rumbling. As the wind blew through one of the cracked windows and angrily whisked his body, he couldn't help but shiver. His small lips had turned completely blue from the cold and the few clothes he owned were not enough to warm him anymore.

The people who passed this deserted street did so quickly and without stopping. He knew this street gave them chills. Why, he wasn't sure. How come something that is one's house, can be someone else's trash?

He used to listen intently to their brisk steps whose sound faded the further they got from his house. He liked his house, but was it really a home? He had no door and the walls were almost completely torn apart. He didn't pay much attention to the details that revealed the age of his building though. It offered him protection and that was enough. Still, it felt like something was missing. Like when you know something is wrong, when something doesn't feel right but without being able to put your finger on what exactly it is that feels strange. Sometimes he wondered if his heart was actually like a puzzle, a puzzle missing its last piece.

He had thought about it many times. He had even heard adults talk about it, or, at least he thought so. Most of the time he couldn't make out whole sentences but the few words he always understood were: one's home is where one's family is. A house without a family is no home. Those words sounded familiar as he was sure that he had heard them before. Maybe it was his mother who used to say them to him when he was younger. He didn't remember. The memories of his mother were very faint now and he could barely describe what she looked like. With each passing day he forgot more and more. Her big, beautiful smile, the kind and warm eyes that always looked so sad, her strong vanilla scent and soft, brown hair.

The first snow had arrived. Much later than usual, it was already mid-December. He woke up one morning to find the entire city covered in a thin layer of snow. It lay on top of all the buildings like a warm blanket. Oh how he wished he could pull his fingers through a soft and warm blanket and wrap his body in it, if only for a minute. He had lost the ability to feel in both fingers and toes a long time ago. The torn shoes didn't offer much protection and the worn mittens were already cold and wet. But they were better than nothing. The cool winter air hit his face and as he walked, the snow crunched under his shoes. He felt his nose freeze and with each breath it felt like ice covered his throat and it became harder to breathe.

Today he would manage to sell a lot of matches and maybe manage to buy some bread, or a small hat. Most of the time he didn't manage to sell that much, for the people didn't even look at him or dare to meet his gaze. The cars never stopped even though he always risked his life when he went out on the highway to maybe, just maybe manage to collect some money. The people on the sidewalk were always in such a hurry that they couldn't even stop to breathe. He usually sat on a wrecked bench and silently watched everyone who passed by. He never managed to make out any details. In his eyes, their faces were no more than twisted, blurry facades. What he did notice however, was that everyone was always checking their watches, constantly turning their heads and glancing down at their left wrist. Why such haste? He had all the time in the world and yet, out here it seemed like every second counted.

After another unsuccessful day, he returned to his small part of the city. It was already dark and the temperature had dropped a few degrees. This time he discovered something he had never noticed before; A slender and crooked tree that stood right outside his house. How sad it looked. Just like me, he thought. He took a deep breath and started walking toward it.

The closer he got, the more details he was able to pick out. For instance, the way the roots seemed wet, like a dog had previously passed by and decided to spread its legs here. On the ground right under the small tree, something was glistening. A small smile spread on his ashy face. It looked like glitter as the street lamps cast their faint glow and lit up the ground. Perhaps human goodness could shine through such a simple gesture as making the tree feel better by decorating it. Just before he got there he realized what the glitter really was; Debris. It was full of rubbish. Crumpled soda cans, plastic bags and crushed beer bottles. All were scattered around the trunk of the tree. He sighed and bent down to pick up an aluminum can. Then, as if his body functioned on autopilot, he just kept picking up all the trash and even though his breathing became heavier and his movements slower, he continued. In the end it was completely clean. Slowly and painfully, he dragged himself closer to the tree and sank to the ground, leaning his back against its rough trunk.

"Thank you for helping me."

Surprised by the sudden voice that had shot out from the darkness, he flew to his feet and hastily turned around. As his gaze darted from one place to the other, he felt himself slowly begin to sweat. The drops ran down his spine and caused a shivers to go through his body. Who had spoken to him? Or more correctly, had he even heard anything? He thought that maybe it was just the cold messing with his brain. It took him a while to calm down, but once he could breathe normally again, he decided to forget about the mysterious voice and head toward his house.

"Wait, don't go yet."

He froze. Could he really be imagining things? After a moment of hesitation, he turned around and started walking toward the tree. He didn't think it was possible but decided to check just in case. If anyone saw him now, they would think he was crazy.

"Did you talk to me?" he whispered quietly, catching himself hoping for an answer.

On the trunk one could make out the outline of a sunken face.

His eyes widened in horror as he stared at the thing in front of him. When a mouth formed, he gasped for breath, recoiling in horror.

"Yes, I was the one who spoke. I just wanted to say that I am very grateful that you helped me.

He rubbed his eyes. So it was true, the tree was really talking to him and it wasn't his vivid imagination that had taken up teasing him.

"Oh, it was nothing," he answered, trying to shrug even though the cold had certainly stiffened his movements. "I just thought it looked so awful with trash everywhere."

A smile slowly spread across the tree's face. A big, warm smile, and the boy felt himself smiling too.

It was already the twentieth of December. Wherever he went, he was surrounded by colorful shops whose shop windows were filled with all kinds of candies and sweets. And not only that - little elves and toy trains that played happy tunes. Beautiful dolls that wore nice dresses and smiled at the world. He felt so small when he looked up at these giant windows. A completely different world hid behind the big, glass doors and he would never get the chance to experience it, never get the chance to walk through that entrance and into the comforting warmth. All around him he heard children laughing. Their joyous howls echoed through the streets of the city, which had suddenly never been livelier. Everywhere, people jostled, trying to make their way through the dense crowds. There were mothers with warm fur winter jackets and tall boots, children with hats and mittens to match, shoes that looked so soft and comfortable and fathers with their expensive glasses and long coats.

"Hurry up, we haven't bought Christmas presents yet!"

"Mom can't I have that bear?"

"I really want more chocolate!"

"Come on, we have to decorate the house, we have no time to lose!"

He slowly lifted his small hand and placed it on the cold display window. A shudder went through his body. His eyes glittered and his gaunt face was lit up by all the thousands of lights that were on the other side. A warm feeling spread through his body and the lump in his stomach disappeared for a few minutes. He smiled and pressed his face against the window in a desperate attempt to smell all the amazing smells and magical tastes. He slowly slipped away from reality, imagining that he too was sitting with his family in front of a warm fire, sipping hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows. He opened his eyes and turned around. The city was truly so magical during Christmas. Christmas lights were everywhere and all the different decorations brightened up the streets that otherwise used to be so gray and melancholic. Faint melodies could be heard from every corner and in the square there was a large Christmas tree. It was so big that it looked like it touched the clouds and lit up the sky with all the Christmas decorations and the magnificent Christmas tree star at the top. He sighed in delight. The world was truly most beautiful during the holidays.

What he never noticed was how thin his dirty little face had become. How defined his jawbones had become and how little color was still left on his skin. It was something that everyone but himself noticed.

It is now Christmas Eve - the 24th of December. One last time he leans against the tree. The tree that had become his only company, his first and only friend. He blows on his hands in a desperate attempt to warm them but to no avail. The cold has already penetrated his body and once the cold is inside of you, it doesn't leave.

But despite the pain and the cold, he smiles. He smiles because he had managed to make his friend happy. He had managed to decorate the Christmas tree as best he could with the help of various gold papers and other rubbish. He knew this would be the tree's last Christmas. The next year his house would be demolished and the tree would be removed since the guys with the orange uniforms and funny helmets would build something else there instead. He'd heard the word "road" a few times but wasn't quite sure what it meant. Maybe they would build him a new home instead.

Slowly, he cranes his neck to look at his friend, glimmering in the dark. He had never seen a more beautiful Christmas tree. In his eyes, his tree was the most beautiful there was.

In the distance, the church bells begin their comforting carols.

He doesn't feel cold anymore. Even though his lips are purple and his eyelashes frozen. Small pieces of ice and snow are visible on his face and yet, his body no longer trembles. Instead, his brown eyes are burning with joy. This was the best Christmas he had ever had.

"Thank you, friend."

Then he closes his eyes. His head falls dully against the trunk of the tree

The small footprints in the snow faded as time passed. Some fresh ones were never seen again but life in the city continued as usual. All the families had dinner at the Christmas table, all the children got what they wanted for Christmas and every single one of the Christmas shops managed to sell all their goods. No matter where you looked, you could see that a smile was plastered on every child's face, even on the one in the forgotten part of town.

But one single detail made this Christmas differ. A detail that most people didn't notice and that would soon disappear. For in the lively center of town, there was an imprint of a small palm that had once been pressed against one of the shop windows.

Written on the 7th of December 2020