It was an extremely cold winter. Snow was falling harder and harder, and the night was almost frozen stiff.On this very night, New Year's Eve spread across the city.It should have been a lively night, and people were cheerful as the new year approached.
At this moment, a pigeon wearing torn, shabby clothes walked down the street—and on its feet, it wasn't wearing any shoes at all.
The little pigeon did have shoes when it left home.They were a big, wide pair that belonged to its mother, and when it wore them, it looked as if it were stepping on two tiny boats.But as it hurried across the big road, several horse carriages suddenly rushed past.It had no time to dodge, and the shoe on its left foot was knocked away.
The pigeon searched and searched carefully, but it couldn't find the shoe anywhere.Those were its mother's shoes!It didn't dare lose them—yet now one was gone.It felt anxious and heartbroken.
As for the right shoe, someone else took it.A boy on the other side of the road picked it up.He giggled and told the little pigeon that the shoe would be very useful—he could use it as a giant cradle for his future children.
The pigeon felt even sadder.Even a boy around its age was bullying it.It had no choice but to endure the freezing cold, walking barefoot on the snow-covered road.Its small feet were damaged by the icy snow; the blood inside had turned dark, and the skin was purple.
Shivering, the little pigeon walked along the street.Inside its torn pocket, thick layers of paper wrapped the matchboxes again and again.It held the pocket carefully with both wings, afraid that a single careless movement would make a few boxes drop out.
The pigeon walked from one street to another.There were very few pedestrians, because it was New Year's Eve—everyone else was at home, gathered warmly around the fireplace, eating reunion dinner.No one bought its matches, not even one stick.It hadn't earned a single cent today.Poor little pigeon!
Oh no…This exhausted, hungry, freezing pigeon was still wandering on the snow-packed street.It didn't dare go home, because it hadn't sold a single match!
Thick goose-feather snow kept falling.The pigeon walked alone, lonely in the night.
Yet it forced itself not to think about those things.What it thought about was the unsold matches in its pocket.However many matchboxes there were—that was how many worries filled its mind.
As it walked, it noticed the bright shop windows on both sides of the street.Lights inside the shops shone warmly onto the snowy road.The smell of roasted chicken drifted out along with the light.
The little pigeon carefully sniffed the delicious scent that had reached the street—but the smell slipped past its beak before it could catch it.It was nervous; it hadn't managed to smell anything properly.Still, it could sense that the food must taste wonderful.
It looked around—still no one.Of course, it thought.Tonight is New Year's Eve.Who would come out into such a snowy night?
(lol and bruh)