Fireworks ascended lighting up the night sky. People counted down the seconds until the clock struck midnight. Downtown Calgary was brimming with energy. 17^th Avenue wasn’t holding the expectations of a New Year’s Eve party as much as you would think.  A homeless urchin wandered the streets wearing half ripped jeans and grimy coat. He reeked of marijuana and dried sweat. Empty beer bottles blinked at him in the light of the New Year’s Eve fireworks. He stood in his usual spot beside the bench facing the street. The streets that used to be covered with snow was polluted with food wrappers, bottles and empty coffee cups. A teenager crossed his path colliding into him, irritated, the man barked a handful of insults at the startled teen. The teen responded by fleeing the situation. The man sauntered down the sidewalk, glancing curiously. Looking towards various restaurants he spotted a family of 5, he stopped. They were cheery, lively and were celebrating the past year. This triggered a memory of the man’s childhood. When he was loved by his father, when he had a place to call home, and when drugs weren’t an influence on his life, but that all changed when the decision between family and heroin appeared. He resumed walking down the sidewalk, and found a bench to end the night.

The sound of Calgary’s traffic woke him up. Distant screeching of tires approached the man at a rapid speeds. A drunk driver. The low whine of an accelerating car is cut off by a colossal crunching of metal and the screeching of a car sliding across the road. The man stands motionlessly as the crushed mass that had once been a red Honda civic lies in front of him. He walked up to a drunk party goer and rummaged through the drivers coat and tore his wallet searching for change or anything of value to him. He came across a handful of nickels and dimes and proceeded to wipe the blood off of them. Bystanders walked by and didn’t seem to care, they just simply waited for the ambulance to arrive.

He stepped inside of the car that had collided with the drunk drivers. It was a woman in the front seat. Her straight, blonde hair covered a little more than half her face. She was unconscious. Streams of blood flowed down her arms like a racing river of blood. He noticed a wallet in her jacket’s pocket and reached in to grab it. The woman’s body slid slightly out of position exposing her face, a few moments after, he caught himself staring into his sister’s eyes.