It was a terribly cold day, more terrible than most, I suppose. Terrible and dark, the worst. Now, in this cold there was a little girl, just there with no hat, no shoes, and just some damn matches in her apron. She was supposed to sell them, but nobody cared about her, for Chrissake. Nobody bought anything.
I suppose that she was pretty or something, but she’s young so whatever. Plus, she didn’t even think that she was a looker. She was a blondie, with long, curly hair. All around her, the whole street smelled like a typical New Year’s Eve party. Delicious, way better than the steak they gave every Saturday at Pencey. I hope. That poor girl needed something good to think about.
So the little girl sat down in a corner, trying to stay warm in her rags in the snow. Like that was going to happen. She couldn’t go home because her father dear would beat her for not selling matches. Some father. Even so, the house was cold too. She was gonna freeze either way, she cou