Rebecca did not recognize Mr Thatcher when he stumbled inside. His clothes looked dirty and ragged, and his face was skinny and unshaven.

'Is it fine if I came inside to warm up. I won't be long.' A whiff of drink was on his lips.

Rebecca nodded. Whatever had happened between him and his wife, she wasn't going to hold it against him. She had no desire to add to her sadness.

'Thank you so much. You are a life saver. Just to let you know, my offer of becoming your assistant still stands.'

'So no such luck at finding work?'

'Is it that noticeable?' A sad laugh turned to tears. 

'Maybe you should go home, Mr Thatcher.'

Mr Thatcher mumbled through his crying, 'I wish I could. My wife kicked me out. Kicked me out after I couldn't find a job. A waste of space she called me. Said she should have never married someone like me.'

'I'm terribly sorry to hear that.'

'My ears are deceiving me. You're the first to say that. People have been treating me like a pariah. And I've been the recipient of a fair few glares. From people I've known all my life. This world can be very blimming cruel.'

Rebecca couldn't have agreed more.

'Do you have a place to go?'

'There's a shelter not too far away. I'm staying there. Dreary place filled to the brim with people like me. At least it's something. Well, I've warmed up so I'll be on my way.'

'Just a second.'

Rebecca grabbed an iris from the shelf. Its drooping purple petals beamed with flashes of yellow, like lightning shooting across a morning cloud. At the heart, was a crown of white, a crown craving for a head.

Rebecca walked over to Mr Thatcher and placed the flower in the chest pocket of his coat.

'What's that for?'

Irises symbolized hope, something Mr Thatcher desperately needed.

'Just something to brighten your day.'

Mr Thatcher patted his pocket. 'I'll treasure this. I'll pay you back when I can.'

'There's no need.'

'Please. Let me pay you back.'

'Fine. You can pay me back.'

And with a smile, Mr Thatcher left.