God, have I mentioned how I hate walking? I look along the town, the walk and talk falling on deaf ears. It was a pretty nice place, old looking, but nice. I pull my olive green trapper hat down, walking into some warm, nearly empty bakery.
"Um, h- hello?" I walk up to the counter, thankful that my slight stammer and my warm and fuzzy clothes make me look like some sort of homeless kid. Now that I think that, I don't think that's a good thing to think if you're someone out of my situation. I look around, finding the place to be cozy. It smells like coffee and the yellow lighting makes it all the more welcoming. The smell of chocolate is enough to make my mouth water, considering the only thing I've had to eat for days was basically a sleeve of graham crackers,
"Good morning!" The lady from behind the counter says, turning around to face me. Her face looks like it pales. "Oh, why...hello there, child. Are you alright?" She comes up to the counter, looking straight at my face. I cough slightly, putting a gloved hand over my mouth, bringing it down when I talk to sell the act.
"I've heard there's a homeless shelter around, c- could you point me in the right direction if you could?" I ask, putting my gloved hands together. The nice lady nods, tilting her red-headed, uh, head to the side as to say, 'you poor thing.'
"Of course. It's right by the Sheriff's department, just go a couple blocks down and you'll see a gray building right across the street."
"Thank you, miss, really." I nod, smiling warmly at her. She smiles back before crouching down to put some pastries into a bag.
"Before you go," She hands me the bag. "Please, take this. It would be wrong of me to let such a sweet child like yourself leave without something warm." She puts the warm bag in my hands, kissing my gloves. Okay, can't believe I'm admitting this, but my face flushed. And it wasn't from the cold.
How crazy would it be if I bumped into someone? Well, I did just that, bumping into some...punk rock guy. I stepped back, holding the pastries to my chest.
"Hey, watch where you're going, man." He sighs, rubbing the stubbled part of his head.
"Yeah, um...sorry, I guess." I say, feeling my face heat back up. The punk rock guy stops as he hears me, stepping forward.
"I know every face in this town, and yet, I'm drawing a blank with you. What's your name, baby?" He asks, tilting his head to the side with a smile on his face. I cringe internally, but decide to play nice with him.
"Tommy. I, er, just got here." I say, glancing past him to the Sheriff's building. This guy needs to hurry up.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." We both just stare at each other for a little bit. Okay, what is it with this guy? It feels like he's a model or something.
"Let me walk you home, hm? As a, uh, welcome gift." He smiles, showing off his pearly whites. Remind me, again, to never think that again. I put a gloved hand to my neck.
"You see, I...kinda, um, have...no home?" I say, looking over at the Sheriff's building. He just stands there again for a few seconds.
"Oh! Well, I know the perfect place for you, man. Come on." He takes my hand and starts leading me to the homeless shelter. Did I just make a friend?
YOU ARE READING
Fire with Fire
Random"Burning my school ID was the first thing I did." Thomas Riley was only 15 years old when he had run away for seemingly no reason. He ends up in Arcola, Illinois, with nothing but hopes and his dying self-confidence. Oh, and knowledge of a homeless...
