No one went looking for Old Walt when he didn’t turn up at the soup kitchen for his Christmas dinner. His friends were all dead or had moved on or simply forgot about him in their own struggle to survive the winter. Snow is the silent killer and they all know it.

Old Walt had once been a happy young man; married with kids and a dog, the whole nine yards. But then one fateful night the fire took everything. He had tried to run into the flames to be with them but the firemen had held him back. After that Old Walt didn’t see much point in going back to work, in getting a new home, in rebuilding his life. It just wasn’t worth it without them.

And so on Christmas Eve, ten years later, Old Walt died in a doorway, his limbs black with frostbite. No one went looking for him. There was no one left to look for him.