Homeless and Hopeless: A Desperate Search for Shelter.
Emily had nowhere to go. Literally, nowhere “I could stay a few nights at the train station. But then what?” Then, a saving thought struck her: “The cottage! How could I forget? Though… calling it a cottage is a stretch. Its more of a ruin. Still, better than sleeping on a bench,” she reasoned.
Boarding the commuter train, Emily leaned against the cold window and closed her eyes. A wave of bitter memories washed over her. Two years ago, she lost her parents, left alone with no support. She couldnt afford university and dropped out to work at a market.
After everything, luck smiledshe met Thomas, a kind and decent man. Within months, they had a simple wedding.
Life seemed to settle until it didnt. Thomas suggested selling her parents flat in the city to start a business. He painted such a rosy picture, Emily didnt hesitate. “Once were stable, we can think about a baby,” she dreamed naively.
But the business failed. Arguments over wasted money soured their marriage. Soon, Thomas brought another woman home and showed Emily the door.
At first, she thought of going to the police, but what could she say? Shed signed the flat away willingly.
***
Stepping onto the deserted platform, Emily walked alone. Early springno crops yet. The cottage was overgrown, nearly unrecognizable. “Ill fix it. Itll be like before,” she lied to herself.
She found the key beneath the porch, but the warped wooden door refused to budge. Pushing with all her strength, she gave up, sinking onto the steps in tears.
Thensmoke. Noise from the neighbors yard. Relieved, she rushed over.
“Mrs. Margaret! Are you home?”
A scruffy old man crouched by a small fire, boiling water in a dented tin.
“Who are you? Wheres Mrs. Margaret?” Emily stepped back.
“Dont be afraid. And please, dont call the police. Im not doing harm. I dont break inI live out here.”
His voice was gentle, educated.
“Youre homeless?” she blurted.
“Yes,” he admitted, eyes down. “Do you live next door? I wont trouble you.”
“Whats your name?”
“Henry.”
“Surname?”
“Walker.”
His clothes, though worn, were clean. He didnt fit the streets.
“I dont know who to ask for help,” Emily sighed.
“Whats wrong?”
“The doors stuck. I cant open it.”
“Ill take a look, if you dont mind.”
“Thank you!”
As he worked, Emily sat on the bench, struck by a thought: *Who am I to judge? Im homeless too.*
“Emmy, come see!” Henry grinned, pushing the door open. “Waityoure staying here tonight?”
“Where else?”
“Is there heating?”
“Just a stove” She faltered.
“Firewood?”
“I dont know.”
“Right. Go inside. Ill fetch something.”
For an hour, she cleaned the damp, chilly cottage. When Henry returned with wood, she felt an odd comfort in his presence.
He lit the stove. Warmth seeped into the room.
“Keep feeding it slowly. Douse it at nightitll last till morning.”
“And you? Where will you go?”
“Next doors yard. Id rather not go back to the city too many ghosts.”
“Henry, wait. Stay for tea first.”
Silently, he removed his coat and sat by the fire.
“Forgive my asking but you dont seem like you belong out here. What happened?”
Henry had been a professor. Devoted to academia, he never married. Old age crept up, leaving him alone. A niece, Victoria, began visiting. Sweetly, she suggested he leave her the flatshed care for him. Grateful, he agreed.
Then, she convinced him to sell it for a countryside cottage. “Uncle, lets open a joint accountsafer than carrying cash.”
At the bank, she vanished with the money. The flat was already sold.
“I sat there for hours. Couldnt believe my own family did this.”
“How awful”
“At least I lived a life. You? So young, tossed out but dont lose heart. Things will turn.”
“Enough sadnesslets eat!”
Watching him devour baked beans on toast, Emily pitied him. So alone, so powerless.
“Emmy, I can help you return to uni. Ive friends there. A letter to the deanhell arrange a scholarship.”
“Really? Thatd be amazing!”
“Thank you for dinner. Ill go now.”
“Wait. Its not rightwhere will you sleep?”
“Dont fret. Ive a shed next door.”
“Stay. Theres three rooms. Pick one. Honestly Im scared to be alone. Scared of the stove. You wont leave me, will you?”
“No. I wont.”
***
Two years later Emily aced her finals, rushing home for summer break. The cottage was home nowweekends and holidays, at least.
“Hello!” She hugged Grandpa Henry.
“Emmy! Why didnt you call? Id have met you at the station!”
“Nearly straight As! I brought cakeput the kettle on!”
Over tea, Henry spoke of his vines. “Ill build a pergola. Itll be lovely.”
“Brilliant! Youre the master here.”
He wasnt alone anymore. He had a home, a granddaughter. And Emily? She had family again. Fate had sent her someone to lean onwhen she needed it most.
