A strange man

It was Christmas Eve.

On the streets of New York that winter night, snow drifted thickly from the pitch-black sky. Here and there, a worker bundled in a padded coat hurried home with an exhausted face, leather boots treading through the shallow snow.

They crunched underfoot.

A black sedan rolled slowly past. Brad sat in the back seat, wrapped in a black overcoat and wearing a deerskin fedora, his face peaceful and relaxed. White mist drifted with each breath.

As the sedan rounded a street corner, the driver suddenly spotted someone waving at them.

The driver had no intention of stopping, but Brad gave a cough.

"Sir?"

In the end, the sedan pulled up beside the man, who was still waving.

The window rolled down.

A slightly stooped man in a dark leather cap and a worn beige jacket stood there looking anxious. Great clouds of white breath escaped his mouth, caught by the cold wind and sent spiraling into the sky.

"Thank goodness. I know this might put you in an awkward position, but it's so late, and I'm afraid it'll be past midnight by the time I walk home..."

"Where are you going?"

Brad narrowed his eyes at the man in the beige jacket outside the car.

It was a good day, and Brad was in a fairly good mood.

The man froze for a moment, apparently not expecting Brad, who looked wealthy or important, to actually give him the time of day.

"Where are you going?"

The driver impatiently repeated Brad's question.

Delighted, the man outside quickly gave his destination.

Brad met the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror. After confirming it was on their way, he nodded. "Get in. I'll give you a lift."

"Wonderful! A kind gentleman like you is bound to make a fortune!"

The man outside stamped his feet and rubbed his hands together. His prominent nose was red from the cold, with a clear drop of mucus hanging from its tip.

Brad frowned slightly, but fortunately, the man was good at reading people. He hurriedly shook a handkerchief out of his jacket and wiped his nose, an embarrassed smile on his face.

Brad tipped his head back slightly. Taking that as permission, the man quickly opened the door and climbed in.

The sedan started up and continued slowly down the road.

"What's your name?"

Brad asked casually, his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Donald, sir. Donald Odinson."

Odinson...?

Brad glanced at the man. He had short blond hair and a square face, but he was not particularly tall or broad, and the years had etched wrinkles into his face.

"That's an interesting surname-"

Brad tilted his head slightly, then introduced himself.

"Mr. Brad, you're a kind man. May God bless you."

Donald hurriedly crossed himself, rambling a little.

Brad chatted with Donald on and off. With a little deliberate guidance, he soon drew out the man's entire background.

This ordinary middle-aged man, who shared a surname with that god, was a surgeon. His skills were neither particularly good nor particularly bad, so his income was nowhere near that of the renowned surgeons.

Donald was a very optimistic man, though. Making his way alone in New York, he rented a relatively cheap little place in the suburbs and worked from early morning until late at night. Without a vehicle of his own, he had to cram onto buses.

Apparently, a somewhat complicated operation had made him miss the last bus that day.

Donald's eyes shone as he talked about the operation. It was a major case he might not see even once in several years, so he had made a point of buying a cheap frozen steak to cook when he got back to his apartment that night, along with finishing the red wine he still had at home.

He also mentioned that he was already in his thirties and still single, but wanted to confess his feelings to a colleague at the hospital, because he felt he had fallen in love with her a year ago.

Brad listened quietly, watching the man gesture excitedly inside the car. Then Donald seemed to come to his senses and apologized repeatedly, as if afraid Brad would find him irritating.

But before long, Donald started talking again, telling more stories about himself.

Several dozen minutes later, the sedan stopped outside a low-rent apartment building in the suburbs.

Donald backed out of the car, thanking him profusely, and kept waving goodbye to Brad.

"It was so warm in the car. Thank you so much, kind Mr. Brad! Good luck will come your way!"

Brad gave a slight grin.

The sedan continued farther out. The suburbs were home not only to poor people in low-rent housing, but also to rich people who had built detached villas even farther away.

Both lived in the suburbs, but their worlds were miles apart.

It was rare for the driver to see Brad in such high spirits. Normally silent while driving him around, he dared to say a little more that day.

"I didn't expect a grown man like him to still be single. Did you hear him, sir? He was just talking about wanting to court a woman at his hospital. Hahaha, but it's just a crush. A whole year, and he hasn't made a move."

Brad gave the driver a narrow-eyed look. Catching it in the rearview mirror, the driver swallowed and shut his mouth.

Silence fell over the car again.

Cold sweat beaded on the driver's forehead. He suddenly remembered that the important man in his car was apparently ten years older than Donald, the man they had just given a ride.

And he was still unmarried, too.

Brad, meanwhile, was thinking about Donald.

He had little money and hardly any time off, yet he seemed able to talk excitedly for ages about any tiny thing in his life.

He had gestured and beamed the whole time, as though putting every ounce of his strength into describing the past year of his life.

Brad shook his head, banishing the passerby named Donald from his thoughts. After all, it had only been a chance encounter brought about by a momentary good mood.

Have I been reading too much philosophy lately? Even a perfectly good researcher like me is getting a little sentimental.

Humming a little tune he had made up, Donald carried his cheap steak and briskly took out his key to open the door.

He climbed the stairs with light steps. His landlord's family was having a dinner party, too, and the adults' loud conversation and the children's noisy laughter reached his ears.

How wonderful!

The landlord's family is so happy.

Donald thought.

Hearing someone passing by, the landlord poked his head out.

"Hey, Donald! Aren't you going home for Christmas Eve? Want to come in and have something to eat?"

"No, thank you, sir!"

"Hahaha, why are you back so late? Did you catch the bus?"

"No, but I met a kind person on the way!"

Donald took off his leather cap and playfully made a courteous gesture toward his landlord.

How wonderful.

Someone cares about me!

Donald declined his landlord's invitation and returned to his little room, where he took out a small pan and began frying the steak.

He carried a little stool over to the window, tightening his collar around his chest with one hand.

He held half a glass of red wine. His landlord had given it to him two months ago, and he had been making it last ever since.

The room was warm, the snowy view outside was beautiful, and he could even see the moon in the distant night sky.

Soon I'll have a delicious, fragrant steak to eat, and I'm drinking red wine, too!

What more could I ask for this year?

How wonderful...

The wineglass fell onto the wooden floor with a clink.

The half glass of red wine he had yet to drink spread freely across the floor.

The little stool by the window stood empty.

There was no one in the room.

It was Christmas Eve.

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