Jahiem

      Jahiem stood right outside of a large, rundown building in the middle of a city street. The cold, bitter wind nipped at his cheekbones and through his thick leather jacket. He could hear the joyous, bird-like chattering coming from inside of the building before him. Another year was soon to pass , and he wasn’t to be alone this night as he had been on so many others.
         A smooth hand held the door for him, and a young woman motioned him in, her teeth chattering against the cold air. Jahiem ducked his head under his hood and closed the distance with a few weighted steps. A warm blast nearly pushed him back, but he managed to slip just inside of the door, the woman closing it behind him.
         The same voices grew louder, and even warmer as he viewed their masters. The Community House: not the ideal place for a New Years Eve party, but the feeling was all there. It was a large building, and the rows of cots seemed to go on for a quarter of a mile, but the inhabitants seemed to group together, speaking to one another in cheery voices.
         The crowd was peculiar looking, wearing thick rags with the occasional fairly new looking piece standing out proudly. Along the closest wall was a large serving table with various deep pots of soup. Most of them were just broth, but one unique contained served watery sauerkraut. A young girl with pig tails that reached her hips opened the lever on the chest of the container. The pot was in the shape of a large naked baby with a sash across his chest. A ragged top hat adorned his head, looking as if someone had tossed it on out of jest.
         “Cold out there, isn’t it?” The young woman at the door said, trying to break the tension.
         “Very cold,” Jahiem said, making an attempt to hide his thick accent, but it would mean nothing by the color of his skin.
         “It is nice to have a place like this. A place where we can gather, share a bit to eat, and speak with others that are in the same situation as ourselves.” She swept her hand outwards in a motion to include the large crowd, including Jahiem, but more so to the large, illuminated cross that every one was hovered around.
         “Yes, yes, very nice indeed,” Jahiem said shortly, wondering just how evasive he could possibly be.  It was obvious that he was uncomfortable with their conversation, and if the slight quiver in his voice didn’t give her a hint, then surely she would see the wrenching of his hands.
         “The city may be harsh, but it is more than warm enough in here. Come, let me take your coat—“ the woman stopped in the middle of reaching for his coat and frowned, looking down to her side.
         The small girl with pig tails was there, tugging on the woman’s frayed dress. A bowl of sauerkraut sloshed about in her hands, threatening to tip over the sides. She raised a thin brow at the woman, and then nodded happily. As the girl turned to Jahiem, she furrowed her brow at the bowl, sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth, concentrated on holding it steady. The wondrous thing was that she could even carry it. Bowls that size were only made for holding a great quantity of food without much substance.
         Jahiem reached out to the girl with a shaky hand, although the room was at more than a comfortable temperature. The girl gave Jahiem a sweet smile, stopping only to slap her hands together to get her blood pumping again, and bounced off delightedly. When he looked up from the bowl Jahiem could see the woman’s face was much more at ease, and she ever gave him a playful nudge toward the festivities.
         Jahiem walked toward the crowd, the ceramic of the bowl comfortable in his hands. Anything to keep them busy, to stop the shaking, to stop the anxiety, to stop his conscience. It took Jahiem very little effort to push through the heavy crowd, those that were bumped into apologized and even asked if he was alright. A meek, sickly smile was returned to them as he shoved his way through.
         Two self-illuminated beams laid comfortably across each other, smiling down at the crowd. They seemed to dim upon seeing Jahiem, and he stared at them wide-eyed through a teary veil.
         “It’s time,” Jahiem said to himself, the thick sand in his through and his culture making it gravely solemn. The white beams sadly agreed, admitting defeat as they tried to reach out to him one last time. His fingers were quicker than his conscience.

* * * * *
         A small girl kneeled in the ashes of what had been her home for thirteen years, a tear rolling down her scarred face.