It was a comfortable spot, that Andrew had found. The last owner, was arrested and had not returned to claim his place. This was paradise for Andrew. It was under the stairs, he could see the road, yet he was away from the elements. This spot was perfect, for him, as it was close to the main street, where he visited every day, to pick up his breakfast, lunch and dinner from the office workers.
Andrew was living rough, on the streets, for over ten years. His parents died, and the house was taken over by his eldest brother, who lived there. His sister-in-law, did not like him, and he was eventually told to leave by his brother, when he lost his job in the factory. Andrew had a few jobs after that, but he always had problems keeping them. He had walked up and down the streets in his neighbourhood, looking for a spot, where he could find shelter.
It was a cold wintry morning, when the police came and told him to move out of his favourite spot, or he would get arrested, if he resisted. Andrew was not a fighter, and he had reached that point when he knew it was better to cooperate with the police force of the city. Luckily, there were a few people from a local charitable organisation, who offered him a place to stay. He knew that he had lost his paradise and would never get it again. However, Andrew knew that he could die in the cold if he stayed another night outside on the streets. He was old and frail at seventy-two. That night, as Andrew slept in his warm bed, in the hostel, for the homeless, he stepped into paradise, one that would not be snatched away from him.
Kind of a 21st century version of "The Little Match Girl".