The city was ready to go to bed. Insect silhouettes approached the luminescence of flickering streetlights. We entered the bakery and paid for two small baguettes, my mother asked me to pick up the brown bag, and I did.
It was getting dark and my skin burned from the cold against my cheeks. Bare feet against the pavement and clothes too thin for the icy wind. I glanced at my younger brother, and I knew his cheeks were also burning, his feet were bare against the pavement and his clothes were too thin for the icy wind. The stoplight turned red, and my working hours were coming to an end.
We got into the car and I placed the warm bag on my lap. As my mother drove, I looked out the window and saw the wind making the tree leaves dance. The night sky made the street seem narrow and cars rushed by, carrying humans who were eager to go home.
We had only collected $2.00 that day. He was going to be mad. My brother always got it worse. I saw cars rushing by, carrying humans too worried about their lives to think about mine. The stoplight turned red once again. I looked at my brother and we both walked towards the line of cars. I looked at one of the drivers –a man of about 50– and distinguished his sad eyes. As predicted, he didn’t roll his window down and instead, turned his head the other way and ignored my dirty and empty hands.
We were closer to home. I continued to feel the warmth of the bread trespass the bag and kept looking out the window, untouched by the cold. The stoplight ahead turned red and all the cars reluctantly stopped. I saw two kids on the street, with bare feet and thin clothes; a girl of about 10 approached my mother’s window, and a younger boy knocked on mine.
I moved past the man with sad eyes and no compassion, and walked over to a car with a woman and a girl inside. My brother had caught up so he knocked on one window, and I approached the driver’s side.
My mom turned her head the other way, so I figured I should do the same; but when I saw his dirty, empty hands cupped on the other side I gave in. I rolled my window down, the freezing wind contrasting the warmth of the bag on my lap. I grabbed it and handed it to the boy.
This time, the driver –a woman of about 45– did not even bother to show me her sad eyes, so I walked away immediately. No time to waste. We needed money. The day was ending and he was going to be mad.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and looked back. The stoplight had turned green, but I had enough time to see the boy showing the girl the bag with bread –I had enough time to see her throw it on the ground. The warmth of the bread had hit the pavement.
My brother approached me, holding a brown bag. He opened it and I took a look inside. No money –useless.
Vowel Vibrations 