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“Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child, Holy Infant so tender and mild…”
Derek crouched by the fire barrel rubbing his hands together while Anna sang Christmas songs to her little girls.
“Another homeless fucking Christmas,” he muttered.
Old Saul backhanded him on the shoulder. “Hush and let those babies dream.”
“It’s all crap,” Derek hissed back. “There’s no blessing being homeless. Fifteen families freezing in this dump. No baby Jesus will save us.”
“You’re young yet, Derek.” Saul’s voice ground like a cement mixer. “Miracles aren’t money. Look around you. Being able to love in this hole is the miracle.”


