"When you said meal, I didn't expect you to take me here."

Glancing around, I'm nervous. It's been years since I've been in a crowd this large. An extravagant outdoor winter event is taking place at the park, and I guess I never realized how careless people could be. They get up from benches leaving half a sandwich or kids leaving their meals untouched, and the parent giving up.

He swipes a small carton of fries from an old-weathered bench, and sneaks back behind a large tree where I'm waiting. The temperature is above thirty today, still freezing cold, but somehow people have gathered in numbers, not even looking the least bit chilled.

The fries are cold, but the greasy, potato-ey goodness, slides down my throat, and I moan. "These are so good." I shovel them into my mouth.

"Take it easy there, Tiger, I want some too."

He reaches in with his fingerless gloves, and smiles over at me. Once daylight came I was able to get a better view of the man who rescued me from near death. He's not bad looking, even under his dirty unshaven cheeks. His eyes are a soft shade of blue, and underneath his wool knit cap tendrils of black hair stick out.

"I'm surprised to see so many people out here in the cold."

"Holidays are coming, people are out and about shopping. Plus it's New York, we all have thicker skin."

I chuckle. "True."

My eyes fall to the frost-kissed grass we're sitting on. At least the sun is out, and there's a little warmth, but I'm still finding it hard to stay warm. My body trembles, and hands shake as I reach for more fries.

"You're still cold."

I nod. "Haven't felt warm in days."

"Why not stay at a shelter?"

I shake my head. "Too many people," I whisper.

"Why are you afraid of people?"

"Why should I tell you, I don't even know your name."

He glances over, "I gave you food, that should be enough."

I sigh, and my body shakes again. Every limb feels cold and frozen. He unzips his backpack at his feet, and tugs out a light gray blanket, covering my shoulders. His hands stay around me while he wraps the blanket, and rubs the sides of my arms.

"Thank you."

"It's Griffin," he says.

I stop chewing, lost in the moment, savoring the cold, damp, french fry.

"My name."

"Oh, I'm Jolie."

"Nice to meet you." Griffin, reaches out his hand to shake mine. I take his and a sudden wave of warmth envelopes me like a hug.

I pull away fast, and receive a sour look from Griffin. He goes back to eating some fries, and stays quiet.

###

It's been a week after our little park escapade, and Griffin hasn't returned. He walked me to the apartment, and said he had some business to take care of. That's okay, because I can't risk being around others, not when love could be a factor. It doesn't matter who they are, the love of a best friend, a parent, or a boyfriend/girlfriend, death follows me wherever I go, like a dark lingering shadow on the wall.

I've been doing well with my music, and have been able to buy food other than Chinese. On Monday I had a huge pizza pie that warmed me right up, but if I'm being honest the warmth of the pizza didn't equate to that strange feeling I got when shaking hands with Griffin.

Snow is falling, as I strum the strings of the guitar, it hurts, because it's cold, but I fight through it. People have been tossing in money all day, but soon the crowds begin to fade, as night falls again. I've been feeling more run down than usual. I start to close up my case, but my trembling hands make it difficult.

A sharp painful gust of icy wind blows through, and my teeth chatter. The world sways around me, and I swear a dark shadow passes right through me. It's the same one I saw right before my world revolved around death. I gasp for air, there's a tightness there, and it hurts to breathe. Shaking it off I attempt to drag my guitar case behind me, only the world tilts, and I start drifting down towards the dirty sidewalk below, but I never make it all the way, as someone warm scoops me into their arms.

I don't know how long I'm out, but when I open my eyes, Griffith is sitting beside me leaning against the wall of graffiti. Chills ransack through my entire body, the shaking causes him to stir. He opens his eyes and they find mine. There's light streaming in from the windows, and I catch a glimpse of his soft blue eyes.

"Here."

Beside him is a plastic container with a yellow liquid. He helps me to sit up, then hands me the container. The scent of chicken broth fills my nose, making my stomach ache for food.

"You scream a lot in your sleep," he says, staring straight ahead.

I allow the warmth to coat my throat, then start to speak. "What did you hear?"

"Enough. Do you really think it's your fault that all those people have died?"

I take another sip, then glance down at my hands cupped around the soft plastic container. I hold it up for him, and he shakes his head. "I had my portion already."

"I saw this weird shadow, and a few days later both of my folks died walking through the Manhattan streets. Someone ran their car up onto the sidewalk where they were walking, and they were the only casualties. Then the second time I saw the shadow, my best friend was killed. She was riding her bike when she hit a bump and flew off, no helmet. Then I fell in love, but before I could even see the shadow I left."

A large knot the size of a tennis ball sits in my throat. When I glance up there's understanding in his soft gaze.

"I was afraid I'd lose him too. So that's when I decided to live on the streets. I didn't tell anyone where I was going. There were signs looking for me, but I cut my hair, changed the color, and fell under the shadows."

"So you have a boyfriend that is still out there looking for you?"

"A Fiance, actually. He'd just proposed. We had gotten to that point and I hadn't seen the shadow, I figured I was in the clear. As time went on the anxiety of the shadow forced me to become obsessed that I had to step away."

My hands tighten around the container. Eyes stinging, and nose tingling, I try to hold back the incoming sob. It breaks before I can. Griffith takes the container and places it beside him, then he reaches over and allows me to cry with him.

"You should probably go if you don't want to die. I'm not saying I'd fall in love with you, but even the most simple thought of caring for someone, has the power to kill."

"I'm not afraid," he says.

I pull away, and glance up at him. His eyes met mine, his lips pulled taut. "I'm not afraid," he says again.

"But I..." He doesn't let me finish the sentence, instead he holds me, comforting me from the horror that is my life. It's almost like he gets it. Maybe having a friend for a short time will be okay.