ing, but her bones ached with the weight of it. The cardboard had shifted in the n
the rough ground. A low groan escaped her lips, but she swa
ugh the streets overnight. The alley behind the bakery was quieter than usual. The man w
r a moment. She listened to the hum of the ci
ush. There was
k, and she couldn't tell if it was from the smoke that lingered in the
d pavement. She wasn't hungry-not yet-but she wasn't sure how much longer she could pretend.
id-like she wasn't there. No one ever asked. N
t anythin
roup of laughing kids, talking about something she co
king. Past the newsstands. Past the tiny stores with brightly lit signs, som
ere no
morrow. Or the day after. Or never again. She didn't know. She
us stop, leaning against a trashcan. The sky was turning gray, like a bruise spreadin
g slung over their shoulder, too full to notice her. She reached out
t, a voice, sharp as glass,
at are y
an was glaring at her, eyes cold and hard. Sh
was
oser. "Don't you have anything b
ing the sting of humiliation. Her fingers clenched i
breath, before turning and walking off. But not before
in. The taste of shame lingered like a bitter aftertaste, and she
But the world had a way of turning even the
that, she was
the familiar brick walls greeting her like old friends. No one noticed
ve every day. It never made sense. But it was
It would b
y would still be here, spinning on its axis. A