He buttoned his coat up tight and wrapped his scarf twice round his neck. The cold was penetrating through his shabby layers and pinching the delicate flesh underneath. His threadbare tartan car blanket was draped over his knees. It wasnt nearly enough to stop the chill entering his poor,arthritic joints.
He gulped greedily from the bottle of sherry-his best friend. The syruppy liquid forged a burning trail down into his empty stomach. His gnarled dirty hands were so cold that he could barely grip the bottle . He had a pair of odd gloves on but again it was a futile attempt to stop Jack Frost from his onslaught.
Nestled at his feet was his other best friend. A small scruffy terrier. They had been companions for three years, each relying totally on the other for affection and loyalty. These things sadly had been denied to them both before now.

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