I’m just about to wave back when the woman in front of us turns around.

Her silver hair blows in the wind. Where have I seen her?

“Have you seen Sis?” she asks. Her blue eyes dart with worry. Her eyes, the color anyway, remind me of Grandma Bess.

“Um, I’m not sure who Sis is, ma’am,” I answer.

The old woman looks up at the sky. “The Angels are coming in their chariots of wind and ice,” she says.

Okay, that’s kind of weird. Before I can answer, I see something wiggle under the woman’s coat. A little brown, fuzzy head pops out under the woman’s chin. The dog looks right at me and, I can tell by the way his eyes smile, he’s wagging his tail.

“Oh my gosh, he’s so cute!” I say.

The worry leaves the woman’s eyes. She smiles. “This is my Baby,” she says.

The little dog tips his head up and licks her chin.

“Can I pet him?” I whisper.

The woman nods. “Dogs are the best medicine,” she says.

I reach out and stroke the top of his head. It’s warm beneath my hand. He closes his eyes and makes an almost-purring sound of contentment.

I know exactly how he feels. Just for that moment, everything feels normal, even good. My heart is light.

A voice behind us breaks the spell. “Line’s moving.”

I blink. I’m standing in the cold, waiting to eat.

I put my hand in my pocket to hold on to that good feeling of the little dog’s head.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I say. “I do feel better.”

She turns back around. In my mind, I’m already planning on sharing my food—whatever it is—with that dog.

Then I hear a voice at the front of the line say, “Come on, Jewel, you know the rules. You can’t come in with your dog.”

“Please, Rick,” she pleads with the man at the door, “just this one time. He won’t hurt anybody. Why,” she says all in a rush, “you won’t even know he’s there.”

The man named Rick shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Jewel.” He motions for the next person in line to come through the door.

“It’s not fair,” I mutter.

“It’s mean,” Dylan says, rubbing his eyes.

The old woman walks toward us. Her eyes are fixed on the sidewalk. She’s saying something over and over that I can’t hear. But oh! That little dog, Baby, looks directly into my eyes. Like he has all the hope in the world. And for just a minute, for the first time in a long time, I feel a little flicker of hope too.

Miss Jean was right: the food was not very good—canned corn, canned green beans, soupy potatoes, some kind of meat, sliced white bread—but it did fill us up.