Only an hour and a half until the bakery throws out its stale bread. I don't have a watch, but I can tell by the way the sun rests on the horizon that is is getting close to closing time for the bakery. Most shops close around this time in this part of town. For me, this is the best time to be wandering the streets. This is when all your patience for the day pays off.
Most people look past me as if I don't even exist. I'm luckier than most like me. I have my own washroom and kitchen. Well, somewhat. I stole an old washboard from the back of a truck and learned how to use it. My kitchen consists of an old broken safe, a car battery, and a few pieces of wire I took out of an old case of lightbulbs and tied together.
I'm pretty good at scavenging for useful things. People throw away stuff for no reason sometimes. Perhaps they just get tired of it and want something new. I think everything can be used if you know just what to do with it.
My body became suddenly alert as the sound of ringing bells indicated the final customer exiting the bakery. It was a girl carrying a large paper bag filled with loaves of freshly baked break. Her expression was different from most of the others'; it seemed softer somehow. As she crossed the street towards wherever she was headed, probably a home with a jolly-faced family awaiting her return with smiles and open arms, the owner of the bakery walked out the side door with all the unsold bread that was past its time.
The bakery's owner finally closed up the store and departed in an old sedan that resembled the color of decaying mulch. When the car finally disappeared into the settling afternoon horizon I stood up and swung my legs over the steel railings of my usual perch two stories above the worn-down city block and leapt to the pavement.
The force of the impact always sent a chill up my legs and through my spine. This jolt signaled an impending success that I long-awaited each day. There are few words I can use to describe this feeling of elation that always sweeps through me. Anxiety rushes through my body whenever I realize how close the moment of triumph is, but I cannot be too hasty to enjoy my success until the moment finally does arrive, and all the waiting is finally over.
One foot in front of the other, briskly I walk across the wide street and fade into the shadows created by the fading sun and whithering walls of the bakery. I fling the lid of the dumpster open, revealing my prize. Buttered sourdough. The best thing I've seen all day. Of course, when you're out here all day it takes very little to find something impressive. I hastily gathered the loaves of bread and stuffed them into my bag.
A feeling of peacefulness settled into my mind as I walked the lonely street. The bread tasted remarkable fresh today.
YOU ARE READING
Mind Game
Science FictionThree men, one lab, three different visions. Only one can control the world's most powerful weapon. The only problem is finding it after it escapes from your control. Three men have worked studying the mind their whole lives but cannot complete th...
