He held his trembling hand out as he had so very many times in the past, but no one was there. He’d been on the streets for more than long enough to know the dangers of lying down in the cold for too long at a stretch. He knew it all boiled down to too much wine, too little food, too many missed opportunities and too much water under the bridge for him to ever be found again. First he’d lost his job, then his family, then his home and finally his hope. As his tired eyes drooped closed for the very last time, he entered a place of warmth and light, of laughter and plenty and knew that he had, at last, been found again.