TWELVE O'CLOCK APPOINTMENT

Standing at the doorway of the apartment in the dilapidated tenement building they called home, Mrs. Fulton watched as her children ran down the steps on the way to school. The ancient staircase emitted loud creaks and swayed with every energetic movement the children made. On the way down Beverly stopped for just a second to adjust the cardboard her mother had put in her shoe when the holes in the soles had become too large to ignore. Just before the children ran through the door that morning, Mrs. Fulton had told them, with a lump in her throat, "And remember, I will try to bring you lunch today," Yes, Mommy," Beverly had answered gravely.

Moving to the window, Mrs. Fulton watched as they walked down the street. She watched as they instinctively huddled in the cold, biting wind and she knew that their thin coats and shabby faded scarfs did little to protect them in the frigid weather. But, she also knew that Gary and Beverly would forget the discomfort of the inclement weather once clustered around the warm radiator with their friends.

Sitting down on the lumpy sofa in her living room, Mrs. Fulton thought about the current situation. Her husband had recently been laid off.