• I'm sitting on the street in my raggedy tent, begging for money that hasn't been spent.

    A man drops a quarter into my hat. I look up and tell him "Thank you for that."

    The man smiles and drops in a toffee. "Come with me and we'll go get a coffee."

    I follow him down the damp, moist road. We take a left into the Coffee Abode.

    I put the toffee in my mouth, so sweet. The man tells me who he is "They call me Keat."

    Two cups of coffee are lowered onto the table. Two columns of steam evaporating on a hanging cable.

    Keat starts to talk "What is your name?" I shrug and claim that Mark is my name.

    I tell him my story and he seems intrigued. "Life being homeless is not how I had believed."

    We sit and talk for an hour, maybe two, when I realise I need to go and do the things I always need to do.

    After the two hours of magic I walk outside and realise my life is tragic.

    I am an orphan; never knew my Mum or Dad. I sat down in my tent, feeling sad.

    I scrounge food from the trash. I search the gutters for lost cash.

    But then I remember about the man named Keat, and the time we had for us to meet.

    He didn't care if I was poor.

    He didn't care if, for food, I had to break the law.

    He didn't care if I couldn't read.

    He didn't care if, for money, I had to beg and plead.

    All he cared about was my wishes, and that to me is the perfect Christmas.