the winter was approaching and kids were hunkering down under the wooden stairs that led down to the pier. squeaks from within the slits in the weathered planks eerily floated through the salty air and into my cruddy ears as i walked up and down the stairs throughout the day. the first time i realized there were people living under the stairs i was jolted and somewhat alarmed but, as the cold nights continued i grew compassionate towards their stead and began looking forward to their funny slurs and cloudy billows of smoke that lifted up from the depths and into the sky as i quietly stepped over them. i imagined them as doubled-over little trolls that moved around real fast, repositioning provisions on makeshift cupboards but, in reality they were probably a couple of gutter punks that i’ve met throughout the last couple months. maybe i knew them by name, maybe it was dan and what’s his face? maybe it was ayla hiding from my flirting attempts. i never found out who they were because i was embarrassed to ask and they never asked who i was or never even really acknowledged me besides someone who might drop a cigarette down a knothole if it was their lucky day