Christmas
The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. Since his wife died, it was just another day to him. He was looking at the snow when the door opened and a homeless man stepped in. Instead of throwing the man out, George told him to sit by the heater to get warm. “Thank you, but I don’t mean to intrude,” said the stranger. “You’re busy, so I’ll just go.” “Not without something hot in your belly.” George said. He opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. “It ain’t much, but it’s hot and tasty. Stew … Made it myself. When you’re done, there’s coffee and it’s fresh.”
He then heard the “ding” of the driveway bell. “Excuse me,” George said. In the driveway was an old ’53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. “Mister can you help me?” said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. “My wife is with child and my car is broken.” George opened the hood. It looked bad. “You ain’t going in this thing,” George said. “But Mister, please help.” George went to the office and got the keys to his old truck, opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. “Here, take my truck,” he said. “She ain’t the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good.” George watched as they drove off into the night. The stranger was gone. The Thermos was empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. “Well, at least he got something in his belly,” George thought.
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