"Three dollars," she paused to mentally count up the amount of change spread out in the palm of her hand, "and uh, sixty-eight cents. What about you?"

Bitter cold chills and below freezing –such a foreboding combination that allows both of them to see their breath when they speak.

"Uh, six dollars and," it's his turn to count up the change in his hand, "five cents. That gives us nine dollars and seventy-three cents in total."

The back of her head struck against the headrest at the same moment he emitted a frustrated sigh.

"That means, we can either go to sleep warm or full," his words were the honest truth. Their car was close to empty, the same as their stomachs, but they had to choose. With just under ten dollars to their name, they had to choose wisely. Sleep for dinner has been their go-to option for the last few nights; it seems it'll be the option for tonight as well.

Jay turns in his seat; the steering wheel to the car –their home- getting in his way. He draws his seat back and tries again, "We can't sleep without heat tonight. We'll freeze."

"We barely had lunch today, Jay."

"I know Er," he stretches his hand out to caress the side of her face, "I'm sorry, I hate this…I hate this so much…this wasn't…this wasn't how our life was supposed to be. I promised you more. When I proposed, when we got married, things were supposed to fall into place. I can't help but to blame myself for our predicament."

Erin's hand covers his, "Jay, it's not your fault. We're both trying here. We just have to keep trying. And it's not like we're living on the streets."

"No, we're just living in our car." His sarcasm went unnoticed by her. She was too hungry and cold for her sarcasm-detector to be at its finest.

Parked under the dim street light, he noticed the florescent glow of light shine upon her in an angelic beam of coverage. It showed her youthful radiance dim with every night they slept in their car. They're young newlyweds –high school sweethearts. They're 21. They've been married for three years; they were wed…or in unromantic terms, went to the courthouse to be wed a few days after graduation. Now three years since his dad kicked them out and her mother disappeared, they'd been living in the car he'd gotten for graduation, -a used black 2009 Toyota Corolla. It may have been an old, used car with not much to give, but to them its home.

"You're freezing," he declared after noticing the light tint of blue to her lips, and even though their car was a tick away from E, he didn't hesitate to start the engine and turn on the heat.

"So, we've decided to sleep warm."

A small, weak smile cradled his lips, "Yeah, we need just enough heat so we won't freeze to death and then maybe in the morning we spend a couple dollars on gas and possibly buy ourselves a donut that we don't have to split."

"Jay, we don't have the money for that. We both have job interviews tomorrow; we need to make sure we have enough gas to get us there."

This isn't their first time interviewing for a job. Actually, it's been too many times for either one of them to count. It's just…they've both been denied and rejected. Or they were hired and fired after a week, or the longest being a month. Without a place to live and many options of clothing to choose from, employers aren't really keen on hiring and keeping someone that doesn't look the part –even at fast food chains. It appears they're all guilty of judging a book by its cover. Her last interview ended before it even started. The manager had taken one look at her and then sent her on her way after accusing her of wasting his time.

"Should we even waste money going to these interviews, Er," he's speaking from the heart, it's from a place of utter disappointment and exhaustion, "why waste money when all they'll do is take one look at us, see my ragged jeans and my shirt with a hole in the sleeve and then turn me away? They'll see your hair, your nails and the tiny ketchup stain on the collar of your shirt and then send you away. It always happens. It'll be a wasted trip with wasted gas and wasted funds."

"Maybe we can use some of the money to go to the coin laundry and wash our clothes…"

That was an option they typically did twice a month. It was the end of October; they've used up their two times a month laundry days. They didn't have the money for a third –not if they still wanted food and to sleep with the heat on. Sometimes they didn't have the money to go to the laundry a second time and once a month would have to suffice.

"Erin," he pauses the second he sees the gas light come on; he's forced to turn off the heat and the ignition because now they probably had just enough gas to take them to the gas station down the street. It was warm enough in the car but in a few hours, he knew it would be freezing again.

"What are we going to do?" She whispered the second snow started to lightly fall out of the sky.

Every surface, every blade of grass and every tree branch was being covered with a light coat of snow. A low fog starts to cover the empty streets of downtown Chicago as the low temperature of the autumn weather starts to creep into the car and cast its breath on their skin. Fall isn't supposed to be this cold. Fall isn't supposed to whisk the heat away and leave them pale.

"We'll figure it out," he intertwines his fingers with hers before raising the back of her hand up to his lips, "We always do. But, in the meantime, how about we walk to the gas station to use the restroom and warm up a bit?"

To most people it would probably make sense for them to drive to the gas station since they have to fill their tank up, but Erin and Jay were professionals in this -one could say. It was late, most parking spots were filled and businesses weren't too keen in allowing cars to park so their passengers could sleep inside of them. The one time Jay and Erin attempted to park and sleep in their car at a gas station, the police were called and they were almost charged with trespassing. If they want to preserve money and gas, it was better to just walk the distance versus drive there and then drive back.

After pocketing their money and ensuring that it was safely preserved at the bottom of their wallets, the couple takes a careful step out of their car before slamming the doors shut. This was a routine every time they stepped out of the car. When you don't own many things, you become possessive of the objects you do own. She checks to ensure the trunk is closed and locked. It was the safe to their lives, the object that held all of their earthly possessions –their clothing and toiletries. Jay opened the backseat and grabbed their blankets and their one pillow and stuffed them under the seat. The two blankets and the one pillow would be considered hot commodity, especially during this time of year. Their car was parked on a desolated road, near alleyways that housed homeless men and women in their makeshift boxes. This wasn't the safest or the best place to park their mobile home –their Toyota Corolla- but it would have to do.

Parking in neighborhoods was out of the question; they were too risky and unsafe. They've had the police called on them once or twice after suspicious activity was reported because they were seen sitting in their car late at night. Residents of the neighborhood assumed they were up to no good. Parking on the main downtown streets either had them not getting a second of sleep due to the nightlife, the party scenes and the club music booming out of the buildings or, they'd unfortunately had a run in with the law because restaurants, clubs, businesses or whatever type of establishment they'd attempted to park their car in front of for the night had called the police citing trespassing and loitering and claiming their presence was bad for business.

For that reason, they'd park in the Silos. It was a place that can be home because it's quiet, the police are never called on them and not many people visit, with the exception of other homeless people. It was unsafe and a bit rough, but it was their place for the time being.

Once Jay ensured that all the windows were rolled up and each door was locked, he wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders and they trekked on to the gas station. It was a way to generate and preserve body heat. On cold nights like this, it made them more grateful to have their other half. She had no one else. He had no one else. Her mother was off gallivanting with husband number five –or maybe six- and Erin didn't typically see her again until her mother was single. It was a hamster wheel for Bunny Fletcher; a loop of some sorts that her mother appears to be permanently stuck in. As for Jay, ever since his mother died when they were 16, his father and his brother haven't been the same. It was hard for him, but they took her death the hardest. His brother was 18 at the time and went off to who knows where to get away from the constant reminders of his past life. He held no contact with his father or his brother. Jay didn't just suffer the loss of his mother, but he mourned the loss of his brother too. He was left in the home with an alcoholic father who didn't give two-shits about him, and the second he married his high school sweetheart, his father used that as a reason to kick him out. Only being granted the clothes on his back and one overnight bag, the newlywed couple stayed at Bunny's apartment –that was until the third eviction notice was taped to the door, granting them 30 days to get their possessions and get out. When Bunny stopped being a mother to her daughter, she stopped paying the rent too. Erin only blames herself though; she shouldn't have been surprised by her mother's actions –it's the same old, same old Bunny.

Jay tightens his arm around his wife's shoulders, and presses a hard kiss against the top of her cold head. If he gets a job, his first paycheck will be going towards getting them some winter clothes. They needed hats, scarves, gloves and snow boots, especially if they're going to brace and survive the arrival of Chicago's winter in a little over a month. Their used coats and winter attire was worn, ragged and shriveled by the time the cold months had passed. What was still useable was stolen out of their car the second they walked to a hot chocolate truck parked on a side street and chose for once to treat themselves to a warm beverage. Since winter was coming to an end, it didn't seem like such a big deal. That is, until now, until the end of fall.

Erin shivered in his embrace and he tightened his hold around her. Their legs kept brushing against each other because of how close they're walking. Their bones were cold. She didn't know if it was anatomically possible, but her eyeballs were freezing. She brought her hands up to her mouth and blew heat into them. It provided three seconds of reprieve.

She wrapped her arms around herself, the goosebumps on her skin rising with every breeze from the unforgiving cold. Her thin and well-worn coat wasn't enough to stop the cold from penetrating the marrow of her bones. She shivered. Jay tightened his hold around her, "I…" her teeth chattering causes her sentence to come out in a stutter, "I d-don't un-understand how you're not freezing. It's like five degrees."

"I think it's because I'm more focused on you, I haven't been thinking about it, you know?" he whispers; his lips move against her head, "that whole mind over matter thing."

The teeth in her mouth start to chatter persistently and uncontrollably and she couldn't stop herself from shivering. The light from the gas station beamed from up ahead and it gave her a surge of energy, a burst of adrenaline and a push forward to pick up her pace to reach it. The snow had fortunately stopped the second they reached the door of the gas station. He opened it for her –always the gentleman. She stepped in first and the indoor heat that hit her felt…she couldn't even describe it; it was indescribable. Maybe serene, or euphoric, or possibly contentment? Whatever the terms may be, she was feeling a mixture of a few.

It was like opening a gift on Christmas morning. The smiles that light up their faces for something that many people take for granted is humbling to them. The color immediately comes back to their flesh; the blue disappears from her lips. No one was inside the gas station, except for the cashier –a teenager chewing gum and flipping through a dirty magazine. She approaches the counter and clears her throat to get the boy's attention, "Hi, sorry to interrupt," she nods towards his magazine, "that, but where's your restroom?"

"Key," he nodded towards the individual key connected to a fluffy and oversized dice, "bathroom is down the aisle towards the left." The teenage boy had managed to speak to her and give instructions without even lifting his head. She took one last glance at his magazine –pages filled with half naked women- before grabbing the key and walking off.

Jay followed behind her and waited in the hall. Neither of them was in a rush to leave. They wanted to collect as much heat as possible because they knew what awaited them outside –freezing temperatures, poverty and frostbite. Jay leaned back against the wall adjacent to the restroom and crossed his arms over his chest, cupping his elbows as he waited to trade places with his wife. He knew she was probably using the bathroom, washing her hands and rinsing her face. When they stop to get gas in the morning, they'll have to sneak their toiletry bag inside to quickly wash up in preparation for their interviews. They might have to wear the same clothes, or a combination of the articles they have folded in their small duffel bags, but the least they can do is make an effort to wash up and look somewhat decent.

Erin departed the restroom and tossed him the key. He entered the restroom as she ventured around the gas station, earning a suspicious look from the cashier. It's pretty funny –sarcasm noted in her thoughts- the one time the guy looks up from his magazine is to make sure she's not stealing anything. Nope. The last thing she needs is trouble. To soothe his imagination, she walks up to the counter and leans against it, in his eye sight and his vicinity. He resumes flipping through the pages of his magazine and popping the over-chewed gum in his mouth. And while she waits, her eyes wander; they scan over the assortment of junk food before landing on the hotdogs slowly cooking and spinning on the closed-in grill beside the cash register. She would die for just one bite. Her stomach growls, seemingly registering what her eyes and mouth are looking at. She averts her eyes towards the price –one for three dollars and fifty cents- its way out of their budget. They could barely afford gas and whatever little savings they had saved since they lost their last jobs was reduced down to nine dollars and seventy-three cents.

"Babe," she pulls her eyes away from the hotdogs to see her husband approach; he caught her and if the look on his face was anything to go by, he felt guilty. He knew she was hungry. He was hungry too, but they simply could not afford it. He handed the key back over to the cashier, before continuing where he left off, "…maybe we can go to a soup kitchen in the morning for breakfast. The church down the street usually feeds the homeless twice a day."

The homeless…that's them; they lived in their car, but they were still technically homeless. With barely enough money to get by and keep the food in their bellies and heat on in their cars, they've ventured to shelters, but many of the shelters were either just for women, just for men, or just for people with substance abuse issues. If they happened to find a shelter that housed both men and women, it had a first come, first serve, but a priority for families –families, meaning people with children. Because of that, the Toyota Corolla had become their home for three years.

"Is it walking distance?"

Jay nods, "It's the next street over."

"What time do we have to be there?"

"Doors open at seven in the morning and breakfast is finished being served at nine am."

Time was of the essence when it came to soup kitchens. They weren't 24/7. They had an allotted time to feed the homeless. If you came early, the doors would stay closed. They opened them on the dot of the specified time. If you came late, meaning after the end time, the doors would be closed and they would remain closed and if you were lucky enough to speak to someone, they'll provide you with the next time they'll be opened which was either later on in the day or tomorrow. For those high schoolers who ventured to the church in an effort to earn community service hours, none of them took the time to provide any information. Some would laugh. Some would degrade and point them towards the nearest trashcan. Some would ignore and pretend like you aren't even there. Whatever the case may be, it hurt. A lot. It hurt enough to make them second guess returning, especially since a girl they went to high school with had brought her younger sister and that had quickly become the most embarrassing day of Erin Halstead's –she dropped the Lindsay after she was married- life.

"We should go. I don't want my stomach to growl in the middle of my interview."

Jay leaned forward and kissed the center of her head. He knew how hard it was for her to go there. It was hard for him too. To see the looks of pity on some of the volunteers' faces, to overhear conversations and opinions shared between parents and children when kids ask their moms and dads about poverty, homelessness and the people dressed in raggedy clothes being served bland food, it was all disheartening. There were times when their pride was too big and they'd chose to starve instead of face the people inside the many soup kitchens they'd ventured to around Chicago. What has become of them? The high school jock and the debate team leader, who fell in love freshman year, got engaged senior year and married a few days after graduation. The popular guy in school who dated the girl voted most likely to succeed were dirt poor and homeless. What has happened to them? The guy who completed all six months of police academy and the girl who completed two years of college all while the both of them were living in their car. What happened? She had to drop out when they couldn't afford it, when her scholarship was taken away, when he was rejected in his attempts to become a detective. She completed two years of college –all of her core classes done- but because her scholarship only included the first two years and no bank in the state wanted to trust her with a loan, she had to drop out. She was good enough though. She was living in her car for Christ sakes and still aced her first and second year of undergrad. She pulled all-nighters, she studied with the car light on and her husband had even quizzed her. She wanted to graduate, to get a job and earn just enough money to get them out of this car and into an actual home with heat.

And all Jay wanted to do was become a detective. He had already completed his six months of basic training at the police academy, but things were never that easy. He got a job immediately and was forced to resign a few weeks later when he had told on his assigned partner. The guy stole some money that was considered evidence and Jay took it to the higher-ups, apparently breaking a brotherhood code that he assumed was just a myth. Now, no one wanted to hire him. Forever labeled as a cop that snitched on one of their own. He'd even stopped applying to police stations and sheriff offices because it would all be a futile endeavor that would end with him leaving with a broken heart and lowered self-esteem. He stuck to applying to restaurants, to agencies and to stores. Anywhere that was hiring to be honest because at this point, he wasn't picky. He just needed a job; he needed money, so he could get them out of this car and into an actual home with electricity and heat.

Their 2009 Toyota Corolla was home though. They might as well get used to saying it. Its home and it looks like it'll be home for the undetermined future.

"So we'll go the second we wake up in the morning," he whispered, being mindful of the cashier standing a few feet away who was now digging in search of his next magazine, "then we'll walk to get the car, drive here, freshen up a bit and get gas and then I'll drop you off at your interview before heading off to mine."

"We should get out of here," she says reluctantly, "we already have a full day planned tomorrow and I think if we stay here any longer, the cashier is going to escort us out."

Jay smirked at the puny teenager, "I would like to see him try."

"Babe…" she whispered and a look of understanding formed on his features. His eyes met hers and he nodded. Neither of them could afford to get into any trouble. They already had a hard time finding employment, being arrested and having a record would only make it harder.

Erin felt her husband readjust her coat by grabbing the lapels and gently pulling it forward. She smiled; he always took care of her, even before they had gotten married. He was the only boyfriend she's ever had; she was the only woman he'd ever dated. They lost their virginity to each other, they were each other's first 'I love you' and they were one another's first kiss. If they had to face any battle, they felt lucky enough to do it beside the love of their life. Just as he lays a kiss upon her forehead, she starts adjusting his coat, since she knows the trick to get the zipper up. His coat is cheap; the zipper always gets stuck and he gets too frustrated to fix it.

Once they're zipped up, his arm circles back around her shoulders and they mimic the position they were in when they walked to the gas station. He pushed the door open and they were immediately met with the artic temperatures of a late Chicago night at the end of October. Neither could imagine what November through February had in store for them.

Immediately his eyes grew watery just as she turned her head inwards, flushing her face against his chest. She protected her face from the wind chill. He took on the role of their eyes, leading her in the direction of where they parked their car. Occasionally, he found himself glancing down at his worn boots –if he walked in them any longer; they'll start to wear away even more. If his cold, tingling toes had any say in the matter, they would argue that it was already too late; his shoes were already old, worn and falling apart. He could feel her arms tighten around him, "Jay, your shoes," Erin whispered and he looked down to notice that her face was no longer buried in his chest; her face was looking downward, at the ground, at her shoes and at his.

"It's nothing either one of us should worry about right now."

"I know your feet are freezing. I'll warm them up for you in the car," she asserted, leaving no room for argument. That's how things worked with them. He sacrificed for her and she did the same for him. She took care of him and he did the same for her. It's been that way since they started dating their freshmen year when her mother would suddenly disappear, leaving Erin in an apartment with no food in the refrigerator and no running water; she would come to his place for a hot meal and a warm bath every night by request of his mother. It's been that way since his parents argued so bad and so loud, his mother left for two days to stay at a coworker's place leaving him to suffer the brunt of his father's anger, only for Erin to climb into his window late at night and comfort him until he was okay.

Jay loved his wife more than any and everything. She was the only woman, the only person, in his life who has and who will never leave him. He's the same for her. They've been with each other at their worst and when they make it out of all of this; they'll be with each other at their best, but for now, no matter how many disappointments, failures or rejections they receive, they have to remain hopeful –which was easier said than done.

Up ahead is their car –their home- and with the same burst of energy Erin had when she spotted the gas station and dragged her husband along, the same was done when she saw their home parked up ahead. She grabbed his wrist and gently yanked him forward. Even though their car wouldn't provide any immediate warmth, it was definitely warmer than being outside. The Silos is a dilapidated area that draws in the sketchiest crowds, from homeless people looking for a place to lay their heads to criminals looking to make a drug deal or dump a body. It was dangerous, but Jay and Erin had found that minding their own business had a way of keeping them safe. And for that, they kept straight, stared straight and continued moving until they reached their car. It had an automatic lock attached to the keys, but the battery had died a few months ago and neither could afford to pay the fee for a replacement.

Jay manually popped the trunk and unlocked their car doors. Like every night, the routine remained the same. He reaches into the backseat, pulls the blankets and pillow from beneath the front seat in order to set up their makeshift bed. He lays the pillow onto the seat first and once he climbs inside and lays his head down on a portion of the pillow, he waits for his wife. He has no idea what she's doing. It isn't until she's slamming the trunk closed –ensuring its locked- before venturing to the backseat and pulling off his worn and torn shoes. He's lying on his back, watching her in the dim beam of light beneath the street lamp. She's taking off his socks next, removing the damp fabric from his freezing feet. She considers laying his socks out on the trunk, but it's a high possibility that someone'll steal them. His feet are cold. The socks she had just removed had a few holes in them, and between that and the fact that his shoes are wearing away, his feet stood no chance against the cold.

Erin climbs into the car and shuts the door. She maneuvers herself in the cramped space, lifting his feet, sitting down and placing them upon her lap.

"You forgot to lock the door," he reminded. This was the most important thing to do at night, especially in the Silos. They've had their fair share of people approach their car, give the door handle a little wiggle before moving on after realizing it was locked. In a matter of a few seconds, the problem was resolved when Erin leaned forward reaching her arm between the side of the car and the driver's seat to press the in-door automatic lock button. It may not work on their keychain, but inside of their car, it was still efficient.

She retook her seat, placing his feet back onto her lap, her hands wrapped around them, sliding up and down in an effort to warm his cold limbs. She grabbed one of the mismatched socks and began sliding it down onto his foot, all the while; he's watching her, thanking whatever deity that existed for the blessing that is Erin Halstead.

"You take such good care of me," he whispered just as she slipped the second sock onto his foot.

Erin grabbed one of the blankets and draped it over his warm feet, "We take care of each other."

"Come here," he slides closer to the left, drawing his feet up so she can slip from under them and like every night, she lies down in his arms and the two of them squeeze together on the seat cushions. Her head is tucked beneath his, facing and resting against the crook of his neck; her body is practically draped over the side of his with her arm wrapped around his waist. He reaches for the two blankets and tucks them around their bodies. With the combined effort of the two blankets and their body heat, they find a semblance of peace and warmth.

In the darkness of their cuddles, there's a touch of comfort. His hand is pressed against her back, rubbing up and down and up and down. He's slowly pressing kisses against her cold forehead, using the heat of his lips to warm her up. Any type of warmth was appreciated. The tight space isn't comfortable, but they've grown used to it. It's their home. It's their life. She slowly pulls her head back and angles it upwards just as he angles his down, "You know I love you, right?" She nods at his words and he tightens his hold around her, "and I know it's been three years of us living like this, but," now she's clenching her hold around him, flushing her body even closer to his, "but we're going to get through this."

And now she's crying; it's silent tears and the only reason he knows she's crying is because he feels the collar of his shirt dampen.

"It's degrading," her voice is soft, and a bit strained, "sleeping in our car, freezing, deciding whether we want a meal or heat, experiencing those brief moments where we actually consider looking for food in the dumpster, having people look at us like we're less than, like we're not worthy or like we deserve this, like we're scum of the earth or suffering from poverty because we don't want to work or we're too lazy. Poverty feels like an endless cycle. We can't get an apartment until we can show proof of income. We have no proof of income, or any income for that matter. We have absolutely no financial stability. How can we apply for benefits when we have no address or no phone or no other form of communication so we're able to be contacted?"

"Erin," his heart broke even more at her words and the fragility in her voice.

"I know," her voice cracked and got caught in her throat, "I know, Jay, I know. And you're right, we're going to get out of this, I truly believe that. And I know we haven't had the best of luck, but at least we have our health and this car and our endless determination and most importantly each other. We have each other. I wouldn't have been able to survive any of this without you."

His hold around her tightened even firmer, "I wouldn't want to survive any of this without you."