Bumping into you[Dreams and Ailera]

biography

Today I feel like a ton of brigs has fallen on me from the height of the clouds. My sides hurt, my head aches, and the muscles in my legs scream every time I take another step forward. My feet were sore, but the miles walked were all in my head. I was only three meters from my front door, finally escaping from my father. Ink trails at my heels as I limp towards the square. I needed food, and it didn't matter how I got it. Dad hadn't kept me in my room for so long before, but he'd been getting more lenient with me anyways. I should be thankful I got the three months I did without any locked doors. Ink, especially. I was surprised he hadn't run away from me the second I opened the door. Oh, my lovely faithful cat.

I reach up to undo the bun I had tied my hair up in. With my hair down, I was the spitting image of my mother, and it drove my dad crazy to see me like her. I kept my hair up, where the definite softness of my jaw was obvious. I kept my eyes down, all because I pitied the state he had rendered himself to. It takes nearly ten minutes for me to walk to the square, and soon I can feel Ink jumping in front of my feet. I bend down to pick him up. People tended to kick a cat if it was in their way, and I didn't want Ink hurting like I did. One of us needed to be fit.

I approach a bakery, one I hadn't visited in months. The people there wouldn't recognize me, but I knew they kept the bread in the open. They were still a fairly new business. It wouldn't take long for them to realize their mistake. I set Ink down outside the store. Then, I grab a bag as if I were any other customer. Tattered clothes meant nothing in a District ridden with them, I would act as if I'd found some money somewhere on the pavement. I take two small rolls, and tie up the bag. I walk around a little more, and before the woman at the counter can call to me, I dart out the door.

As I run out of the store, Ink trailing close behind, I begin to open the bag. I have one of the rolls out and I'm about to take a bite when I slam into someone. A hard oof escapes my lungs before my eyes are back on my bread. One roll has dropped into a puddle of white liquid, and another has rolled into the middle of the crowd. I take a step towards it, but some little hand snatches it up before I do. My stomach does a cruel little twist. I turn back to the person I ran into and scowl, "You made me lose my food!"