The Story of Anima

♦ CHAPTER 2: Thieves' Talk ♦

-These brothers wouldn't let anything get the best of them, even each other-

Chuck stood in the back of the bakery shop. The inside of the small shop smelled like fresh baked goods. On the wall were rows upon rows of different types of bread. There was a section on the wall of white bread, wheat, rye, and prized sourdough rolls in a display case. The child's eyes grew wide as they looked at all of the choices. They looked at all of the different colors of golden brown as they walked around the shop. 

The shop was a little busy. The old man at the storefront was attending to a couple of guests but wasn't ever in a rush. A dwarven woman bought a loaf of bread and carried it out in a bag. She thanked the baker and said she would come back in a week. The old man waved at her and cleaned his sourdough display case.

Chuck was a very small child. Their hair was a mop of curls on top of a very childish face. Their cloak dragged behind them as they walked around the bakery. You could tell the cloak was handmade, but very carefully woven by an expert hand. The small threads were finely woven to create a seamless hem for the short child. Chuck took down their hood and adjusted their glasses.

Chuck's stomach start to rumble as they walked around the store. Maybe if I talk to the baker, he will take pity on me and give me bread! A parental figure will usually feed their children, right?

Seeing the huge display case in the front, they wandered forward. They stumbled over their clothing and shoes silently. At the front, the baker was quietly adding sesame seeds and butter spread to one of the warm loaves.

 "Um, Mister?" They said in a small, high-pitched voice. The baker jumped and then around and peered down at the child. Chuck pushed his glasses up to his face. "Sir. I was wondering why you have all of this bread?"

The baker laughed and set down his stuff. He wasn't surprised a child would ask something like that. "Let me tell you what my child. I've been baking bread for a long time. This is my family's historical bakery. This baker's shop has been passed down for generations. We even have a special recipe award plaque on the wall." The older man gestured to the wall where said award was hung.

"Sir, I don't have very much money. I was wondering if I could have a loaf of bread?" The little child said. Their eyes started to get bigger as they begged for food. The baker shook his head with a small smile.

"I'm sorry child. My bakery has been stolen from almost every day this week. An older man seems to be coming in and stealing loaves of bread. We think that he is homeless. I haven't seen him myself, but a customer always tells me after he leaves."

Chuck nodded. They understood the art of being a thief.

Their stomach started to growl. I tried chatting, they thought. But whenever I try to ask him for a loaf of bread, he gets distracted talking about the thief. 

"Well, thank you sir for talking to me. I hope you catch your thief." Chuck gave a solid nod, enough for their glasses to slide down their nose. 

The baker smiled a warm and reminded Chuck what a grandpa looked like. Or, at least what Chuck imagined a grandpa to look like. Their family never really stuck around long enough for their status to be influential to Chuck.

The baker leaned over and ruffled Chuck's hair. "Well thank you, my child. It is really annoying when people try to steal from me. This is how I make my life for me and my family." The baker turned around and resumed brushing butter and seasonings on the loaves. 

While the baker turned, Chuck leaned over the counter and shoved a whole loaf of warm, prized sourdough bread into their mouth. Chuck turned around, ran past the customers in the store, and ducked out the door.