"i want to breathe with you always, don't you know what i feel?" - going crazy ; treasure.
treasure imagines for our lovely treasure! (requests closed)
— plot. summer of 1952, a girl who steals bread to eat and a boy who likes to read, crossed paths.
disclaimer! THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. some parts of the chapter below will contain historically incorrect information. the timeline given in the story will not mostly align with real life events that happened during that time period.
oh my lord this is the longest chapter i had ever done in my life. longer than all my educational essays good lord (5.7k words)
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
first day of summer: 1952.
it was very hot that day.
the sun was smiling too wide. the plastic swinging happily side by side on the girl's hand was smiling. the contents inside the bag were bouncing happily, too.
everyone was happy that day. except for the girl whose legs were on fire, running away from a man who was not very happy. he was yelling behind her, holding up a beer bottle in the air as he found trouble catching the speed of a young girl's steps and overall youthful enthusiasm.
"g.. get back here, you thief!" he yelled for the whole streets to hear. now they know that there was a thief running in the middle of the street. the thief in question was a girl, not younger than fourteen but not older than seventeen.
"sorry!" the girl yelled back, shifting sides in the narrow, bustling street full of people to avoid any crowds that would serve as a division.
regardless, the young girl was too fast for anyone who bothered helping the man catch up with the girl, so all their running attempts had failed.
then, an opportunity. a crowd was starting to form for the market ahead of her. she ignored her aching legs and limbs and pushed her way through people of different sizes and ages, all while she monitored with her eyes to make sure she was not accidentally trampling over a child she failed to see. she occasionally muttered a few 'sorry's' here and there whenever she heard angry complaints about being pushed over.
no child was harmed, her legs were sore, but she was now in a different street, she reckoned seeing the crowd pushing and passing. she could not hear the yells of the man. she was not sure if anybody in this pushing crowd would stop to give a flying care that a particular girl within the crowd stole three pieces of bread from his bakery.
she ran a little further away. away from all the yelling. she could not even be annoyed at the yelling. because she deserved to withstand the anger and the frustration of the man, the baker, when a girl stole his products he worked so hard to bake in the early hours of morning.
but, her grumbling stomach was not letting her force an apology immediately. she ran more.
the girl found her peace in an alleyway far from the market.
she stepped down the cold grounds, seeking assistance from the cold brick walls as she leaned a hand against it. her breathing was heavy, and the creased plastic bag was still hung safe on her fingers.
