Waking up on the second day of working was like rising up from death itself. I ran to the marketplace and barely made it on time, huffing and puffing by the time I reached Gramps and his watermelon cart. He only said, "Start hauling," and I went straight to work.

Sleepiness overwhelmed me an hour or so before the market time ended, but I managed to not make a fool out of myself and successfully came out unscathed.

"Bye Gramps!" I said, tripped over myself in my drowsy hurry to get back home, then promptly fell on the bed and fell asleep.

"Filian?" I heard mom's concerned voice before I faded away into blissful darkness.

The third day of working was a little better. The napping probably helped. Still, I had to slap myself awake a couple times during my afternoon shift at the restaurant, and cook gave me a scrutinizing look.

"Can you put me on afternoon shifts for the rest of the week," I asked meekly at the end of the night.

He grunted, and I took that as a yes. 

"Thank you."

I woke up late the fourth day. The marketplace was already loud and bustling with people by the time I got there, and Gramps barked at me a few times before we settled back into what was becoming our usual routine-- hauling, selling, calculating, the works.

I beelined for home right away and crashed until my mom woke me up in time for the restaurant shift.

"Are you okay?" Paul asked me at work, when he came in to discover me next to the utensil racks, massaging my aching head. "You look a bit... tired."

I cracked a smile. "Yeah. I'm still alive. Somehow," I joked.

He furrowed his eyebrows, concern lining his pressed lips. He gripped his shoulder bag as per usual. "You sure?"

I thumped him on the shoulder with a cheerfulness I didn't feel. "Thanks, my dude. But trust me, I'll manage." I couldn't say I was fine, because I felt too much like poop to lie convincingly, but I could manage wasn't a lie. I really could, probably. Besides, since I didn't have a shift at the restaurant tomorrow, I'd have plenty of rest. 

The loan sharks came by that day. I gave them the money I'd borrowed from Sheriff, and they left after jeering at me for a full ten minutes before Cook came and intimidated them enough to make them leave. By that time, I was aching all over, so all I wanted to do was see them out. 

Waking up for Day 5 was sluggish, but not as horrible as Day 2 had been. I hoped that this meant my body was adjusting to this new sleeping schedule.

...yeah, I wasn't too sure about that yet.

"Thanks again, Gramps," I called to the curly-haired watermelon man as I strolled out, with yet another bag of apples in my hands. I knew not to swing it around like that first day now, which felt like it was so long ago when it hadn't even been a week. I shook my head. Impossible.

"Come in tomorrow," I heard him say behind me, and I lifted a hand to show I understood.

I sighed, my mind filled to the brim with numbers. If I wanted to meet the new amount for the coming month, starting basically from scratch now that those loan sharks had swept clean our savings in the past two months, then I'd need to work extra for the rest of the month at the pay rate I was getting. Which meant working basically on naps and a few hours of nightly sleep every single day, except for when I had days off at the restaurant.

I kicked a pebble in the way, and a rush of contempt rose in me at the thought of living like this longer. My feet hurt, my head hurt, the sun was too bright, and I had too much to think about. My mouth overturned and I grumbled, my general disgruntlement sharpening into intense hatred towards Gair and Simon, the two loan sharks that had come by yesterday to collect my hard-earned money. 

"Curse you," I muttered darkly. I kicked another pebble as hard as I could "And their hairstyles don't even look good on them."

I was too busy muttering to myself and cursing the duo out that I didn't notice I'd bumped into someone on my staggering path back home. 

"Hey!" 

I didn't turn around. (How was I supposed to know 'hey' was referring to me?)

Someone ran up behind me and whirled me around by the shoulder. "Ow!"

"I was speaking to you!" said a buff guy, his voice gravelly and deep.

I scrutinized him. I really wasn't in the mood for this. "Yes?" I said, not exactly challenging but not very nicely, either.

He looked me over. "You're the one who gave me the apple last time," he said, a note of surprise in his voice.

I also looked at him more closely. He did resemble the man who'd lunged out of the alley that day. "That's right, I am," I agreed. "You were in the alley."

He nodded, and a disarming smile spread over his large face. "Thanks for the apple, by the way. Gave me a really good idea."

I didn't know what he meant by 'idea,' but I fished out another partially bruised apple from my pack and offered it to him. "Want another one?"

He brightened even more. "Hey, yeah, sure!" He took it easily from me and tossed it in the air, falling into step beside me. "I'm Dan, by the way, but folks like to call me Danny."

"Hi Danny," I said automatically, though I had no strength in my words. I just really, really wanted to go home.

"I've seen you pass by here this week a bunch. You working around here?"

"Yeah. I'm helping Gramps out at the early morning market." He probably didn't know who Gramps was; well, I couldn't be bothered to really tell him all about it, so I left it at that.

He winced. "Ooh, you'll have to wake up super early then. I work at the bakery!"

I raised an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of my crankiness. "You mean Claire's bakery?"

He raised his eyebrows in response. "You know Claire?" He broke out into a broader grin, if that was possible. "She's my cousin!"

"Oh, nice," I said, facing forward again. I closed my eyes halfway, just enough to see the road but not fully so that I could at least pretend I was resting somewhat.

"Yeah," he chattered on, scratching his arm. "I just moved here from the capital. Wanted to make a name for myself out there, but turns out it's not that easy." He chuckled, a bit sheepishly. "I think city life doesn't really suit me either, so I'm liking it way better here."

"Huh."

"I want to be a baker, and let me tell you, your free apple from that one day gave me a really good idea, and I made a new kind of bread! I'm thinking of calling it apple bread."

"Wow."

"Have you heard of putting apples into bread before? Some of the super fancy pastries have apple in them, but most of the common bread we eat don't really have fruits in them except raisins, you know? Other fruit seem such a waste to put into baked goods. But when you gave me the apple, it got me thinking... apples are pretty cheap! I could probably do something good with them."

"Mm."

"And success! Thanks to my apple bread, our bakery's doing pretty well. I guess it's all thanks to you, though, now that I think about it." He laughed. "I have a good idea! If you come over to our bakery, I'll give you some bread for free as thanks."

That got my attention quickly. "Free bread?" I echoed.

"Yup! Oh, there's Claire. I better go. I'll see you around!" He waved at me, making to leave, but then stopped. "Wait, what was your name?"

"Filian." I tilted my head towards the restaurant up ahead on the street. "I work at the restaurant."

"Cool! Nice meeting you, Filian."

Then he was gone, and I trudged on, absentmindedly folding and refolding the top of the paper bag that held the apples. Well. Free bread. That sounded pretty good. 

"What goes around, comes around," I murmured to myself, repeating with Rosa always said in absolute sincerity in certain situations. "Hm, I guess that actually happened this time."

I was just about to enter the empty restaurant, head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton, when a loud shout came from behind me and someone knocked me over.

"Sorry!" yelped the male voice who had run into me. In an instant, he was up and gone.

I shook my head and looked around, disoriented. "What?" I said to nobody in particular, hair in my face. I peered at the retreating back and recognized the dirty newsboy cap and the black hair. "The government official," I muttered. I stood up but swayed, my vision temporarily blacking out in dizziness. "Whew," I said.

Meanwhile, another person whizzed past me, and I jumped back warily to give the woman a wide berth. "Stop right there!" she yelled, and I watched her run. 

"She's sure fast," I commented, and briefly wondered what was happening. "Must have cheated," I decided, then finally went inside the darkened restaurant. I shuffled up the stairs and plunked myself onto the bed. 

"Filian," mom said, coming over to pat my head. "What are you up to so busily these days?"

"Oh, you know, mom," I said, eyelids already drooping. I smiled, though it was more out of habit than for the sake of my mom. "Just running around. Like I always do."

---

A/N: Filly's schedule looks something like this: she wakes up at 4:30 and gets to the marketplace to help Gramps by 5:30. After she helps set up the cart and stuff, the morning market rush lasts from 6:00 to noon. She finishes packing up with Gramps by 1:00, gets her pay, then goes home and naps until 4:00. Her afternoon shift starts at 4:30 (beginning with prep), the restaurant opens at 5:30, and then it lasts until 12:00 midnight. Evening shifts at the restaurant begin at 8:00 and lasts until 2:30 in the morning, though sometimes it lasts until 3. Filly was dying by the end of her first day because (1) she didn't take a nap, and (2) she had the evening shift then.
Poor girl.