Hungry…
I am hungry and famished.
As if I still failed to bring my point across, my stomach rumbled in protest, making me sigh as I lifted my thin body from the ground. Ah… If only hunger wasn’t the least of my concerns.
Previously while I tried to hide myself from the harsh sunlight, which definitely wasn’t an easy task, I luckily had access to the memories from the previous owner of this body. Thanks to them, I managed to find some kind of market-place.
Which coincidentally, according to the memories from my nameless predecessor, the best place to ‘gather food’ was exactly here. This flea-market had all sorts of people, some being merchants hoping to gather a decent sum of money, while the vast majority being homeless folk, exactly the same as I.
Now, the only way for me to actually put my hands on food would be by stealing. At first I considered begging, since I don’t feel right by robbing people of their hard-work, but… After checking the memories of the boy, let us say that begging would have been the biggest mistake I could’ve ever made regarding this situation.
Which only leaves me with no other choice than robbing.
My predecessor already knew how to steal, so I wouldn’t need to worry too much about lacking expertise. Albeit, I’ll need to plan this robbery very carefully if I don’t want to end up getting beaten to death, just like the boy.
Thus, choosing the correct target is a fundamental part of my plan. They would obviously need to be someone close to the same situation as mine, since targeting one of those merchants would be tantamount of suicide...
Oh?
Luckily, I think I managed to find my target… Let us proceed with the plan.
Because, I’m really hungry.
…
-
Survival in the wastelands is hard.
That is a saying that could be applied to everyone sharing this same living-environment. Everyday in this hell can only be summarized by struggling to keep oneself alive, no matter the cost.
Gloomy people, all focusing their eyes on their rotten goods. The shadows of the abandoned buildings being the only source of refreshment for the patient survivors, their stalls only amounting by a dirty carpet on the ground.
An old man dressed in ragged clothing approaches one of the stalls, this particular one having a couple of tomatoes close to spoiling.
“I’ll have one of these.” His hoarse voice being neither too low nor too high, yet already enough to make his point clear.
The extremely thin seller lifted his distracted gaze to the old man.
“Payment?" He nonchalantly asked while pointing at his own hand.
The old man fumbled his pockets until he pulled out a steel buckle. Rubbing his rough palm on the rusty metal’s surface, he had a look of reminiscence with a mixture of regret hidden within his pupils.
“There.” Even then, he hesitantly handed down the piece.
A simple exchange, yet, it meant multiple things for this old man. Staring down at the spoiling tomato on his palm, he sighed profoundly while simply moving on from this stall.
It was indeed an unfortunate coincidence, or a possible stroke of fate, that his worn out silhouette was the one being targeted by a golden pair of eyes.
-
Shortly after obtaining food, that old man quickly distanced himself from the flea-market. He hid the tomato in his pocket while his worn out hood shadowed his gaze. His tired steps barely produced sounds on the soft yet hot sand, successfully avoiding the prying eyes of the other survivors.
With the desired distance finally covered, the old man looked at the sides to assure he wasn’t being followed. As he did so, he relaxed his tired body by laying his back on a stone wall. It offered enough shadows to hide his thin frame from the harsh sunlight.
Despite finding a good place to rest, his old body couldn’t keep up with his actions. Enduring the burning heat with an empty stomach didn’t help either, therefore, he quickly pulled out the tomato from his pocket. He would’ve definitely been salivating if he wasn’t dehydrated as well.
Yet, the moment he was about to sink the remaining of his teeth on the fruit, he barely managed to see a pair of golden eyes staring at his food before a mouthful of sand was hurled on his face.
The grains spread out on his eyeballs, bringing the old man a source of pain and discomfort that immediately forced him to close his lids.
“Argh! My eyes!” The old man unconsciously pressed his hands on his face in the hopes it would ease the pain. Unfortunately for him, such actions made him drop the red fruit on the ground.
This gave enough time for the boy to quickly swoop the tomato from the sand, all while he mustered all of his feeble strength to run without looking back.
By the end of the ordeal, the old man watched as the boy ran with everything he got, nothing other than awe within his gaze. His eyes widened, all while his sore throat struggled to produce any sounds besides a dry gasp.
“W-wa...it…” His stretched arm slowly lowered down. The old man remained there, his forehead touching the scorching sand, yet, he made no effort to distance himself from the pain. For it amounted to nothing when compared to the utter sensation of loss he was feeling at the moment…
-
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.” Those were the only words that left from my mouth as I ran past the fallen old man.
Putting as much strength as those little legs of mine could muster, I ran.
And I didn’t look back.
I didn’t dare to.
I…
Kept running, until my feeble remains of stamina finally depleted. As my frail legs gave in, I dropped on the sand.
Feeling the uncomfortable burn on my skin, I crawled towards an alley from two abandoned buildings, hiding my cowering frame between the shadows of those constructions.
Looking at the almost rotten tomato on my palm, I felt my body hit by multiple sensations. My empty stomach roared in hunger, while my ears could only hear the sounds of my weak gasps.
Hesitating no further, I embed my teeth on the red fruit. Munching and swallowing as quick as I could, those were the only things I focused my senses on...
Perhaps, I was trying to drown my bitter feelings.
Bitter as the flavor of the red fruit...
