Delia’s thin frame presented an unusual grace as she pirouetted and spun outside the high-end clothing store. Colorful Christmas lights twinkled from the decorations the town council had commissioned from the town’s holiday decorating budget.

Music played from an old CD player, which sat beside the plastic cup she’d set out for donations. She’d spent her last dollar buying some cheap batteries from the dollar store and desperately hoped they held out long enough for her to gain at least some coins to allow her to buy some warm food tonight.

The chill of the winter air only made Delia dance more fervently. The snow coating the ground reached icy fingers through her worn ballet slippers.

She elegantly maneuvered her dance steps. Born with a natural talent for dance, she’d trained as a child before the accident had taken her family. It had been five years since the day she lost everything and everyone she loved at the age of thirteen.

Despite the stunning choreography of the dance and the precision and passion in her movement, no one stopped; no one parted with any coins from their tightly clutched purses or wallets. People brushed by her, too busy shopping for last-minute gifts to even notice her as she performed in the freezing cold. Some who walked by her were eating rolls and pastries bought from local shops. Delia concentrated on her dancing and tried to ignore the enticing aroma of food and the cramping of her empty stomach.

Tomorrow was Christmas. These Christmas Eve shoppers had warm homes to get to and families to spend time with. Delia had only her dancing.

As night fell and snowflakes began to drift down once more, creating a fresh blanket of white on the ground, Delia gathered her meager possessions: one worn and holey sweater, her CD player, two music CDs and an empty plastic cup. She also had a pair of shoes, which she exchanged for the ballet slippers on her feet. She noticed the slightly bluish tint creeping over her numb toes.

Delia found a dry spot under the overpass from the road. Less snow had crept into the covered area. It was the driest place she could find for the night. This wasn’t her first night sleeping in the short tunnel, and she knew that the walls would help block some of the cold wind.

She curled herself into a tight ball and tried to sleep despite the uncontrollable shivering of her limbs and the constant gnawing ache in her belly from lack of food.

Delia was almost asleep when a bright light filled the underpass, making her open her eyes. She couldn’t see anything at first as the white light filled her vision, but the warmth that filled the underpass gave her immediate relief from the constant chill.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, a woman took shape in front of her. Delia didn’t recognize her, but the kindness in the woman’s eyes reminded her of the way her mom used to look at her.

The woman had soft, shoulder-length golden hair, wore a pristine white pantsuit and smiled at Delia. She reached her hand out to Delia, and Delia didn’t hesitate to take it.

They rose up through the ceiling of the underpass, and Delia didn’t question how they could be doing this as a feeling of overwhelming joy filled her heart. She was going home to be with her family again.