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One:  Chimney stacks puff clouds of thick, acrid smoke into the air. Ashes fall like charred snowflakes on my cheeks. I pull my knees to my chest, hoping for sleep to come and relieve me of my misery as I lie in this alley, with the hard, brick wall of the factory pressing against my back. I shiver and wrap my jacket around my body, its zipper broken. Holes in the lining expose my skin to the wind that bites and stings, making me colder and number beyond the conception of any normal person.
Two: Dogwood blossoms lined the park, falling from the trees when the breeze would blow. Pigeons clucked and cooed as they pecked at the ground. I don't know what they're eating, I thought. I had already searched through every piece of garbage in that gutter for anything deemed edible.
Early morning sun pushed the clouds aside and fell on my face. I rose and stretched, yawning. In a flutter of wings and soft coos, the pigeons flew away, soon to return. I rubbed my hands and shook my arms, reviving my circulation.
"My, my, my, what have we here?" I said to the pigeons. A brown jacket lay by the side of the alley without a sign of a proprietor near by. It's mine now, I thought as I picked it up and tried it on. Fit nicely, it did, and a few coins jingled in the pocket.
"Oh, look at this! It must be my lucky day!" I said. The pigeons were indifferent to my exclamations, but I rejoiced as I held out my hand and beamed brightly at breakfast as it sat in the form of a dollar bill, three quarters, and a paper clip. Had they been gold bricks, I could not have been happier.
I walked down the old-fashioned sixties diner at the bus station and took a seat at the bar. I ordered a hot cup of coffee for sixty cents and sipped it quietly as I mulled over a breakfast menu. Shiny, color pictures of sundry breakfasts decorated the cheap plastic menu. I glanced at eggs and sausage, pancakes, waffles, and chipped beefsteak, all of which were too expensive. What I really wanted was a slice of pie, like the picture on the back of the menu: a large, hot slice of apple pie with a flaky crust and a scoop of vanilla ice cream, melting on top. My stomach whimpered,pleading me to buy that slice.
The waitress came and took my order. She reached beneath the counter and cut my slice, placing it on a little china dish. I watched her as she turned and opened the freezer. She scooped cold, savory white ice cream and placed it on my pie, sliding the dish across the bar to me. My lip quivered in anticipation as I lifted the fork up to my mouth and toot the first bite. Oh, it was so good.
"That'll be a dollar-twenty, sir," the waitress said. I have her the last of the money from my pocket, including the paper clip. "I'm sorry, this is only a dollar-fifteen, sir." My jaw dropped; I still hadn't swallowed the first mouthful.
My mind raced. What was I supposed to do? Should I grab the dish and run?
"I've got it," a woman sitting next to me said as she placed the nickel on the bar. Thank you, God, I thought, glancing upwards. I swallowed, grinning.
"Thank you," I said to the woman and took her hand.
Three: She was beautiful. I can remember the way my heart pounded as I gazed into her eyes. they were brown, I think, but they could have been green or blue. I remember the thin creases and shallow dimples of her smile. Then she stood up and put on an oversized pair of sunglasses. Her trench coat and platinum hair danced wildly behind her as she ran down the sidewalk and disappeared into a throng of people.
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