a hobo christmas

The snowman stands stoically in the winter chill, his twigs arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. A hobo shuffles up the sidewalk, his eyes narrowing as he glances up at the snowman's tattered hat and worn scarf. "Ain't you just a picture," the hobo grumbles, his voice raspy and his breath visible in the cold air. "What's it like, being out here all day and night, never moving, never speaking? It's gotta be lonely."