The night was biting cold, and your arms were heavy with shopping bags as you made your way home through the dimly lit street. The snow crunched beneath your boots, and the wind cut sharply at your cheeks.

That was when you saw her—standing by the side of the road, shivering in a thin dress, her cheeks flushed from the chill. She clutched a small basket and a few matchsticks in her tiny hands. Her big, tearful eyes looked up at you.

“D-Do you… need any matches?” she asked softly, her voice trembling almost as much as her hands.

You stopped, taken aback. No one else seemed to notice her; people passed by with their heads down, too eager to escape the cold. But there she was, fragile and desperate, holding onto something so small against a world that felt too big and too cruel.

She tried to smile, but the corners of her lips wavered. Then, as if her last bit of courage slipped away, she lowered the matches and whispered to herself, “It’s so cold… I just want to be warm.”

You saw her pull out a little cardboard sign she had made herself. In shaky handwriting, it read: FREE HUGS. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she held it up, looking at you with silent hope.