It was a cold day. People moved about their daily routines, bustling through the streets while a child woke up in a quiet alley. He heard nothing nearby, only the distant hum of life beyond the stone walls. The alley was forgotten by the city, and so was he.
His black eyes blinked open as he sat up on the cold, hard ground. He rubbed the sleep from his face, muscles stiff from the freezing night. His clothes hung in tatters, threadbare and torn in more places than not, but it was all he had. A lost child, no older than seven, with no name, no family, and no home. His messy, unwashed black hair fell over his eyes, hiding most of his small, tired face.
His stomach growled painfully, louder than the faint market sounds in the distance. He rose to his feet, staggering slightly. Hunger made his limbs weak, but he was used to it. The cold bit into his skin, making his fingers feel like stiff twigs. He glanced around the alley, perhaps hoping to find something—or someone—but there was nothing. With a sigh, he brushed off his clothes and wandered out toward the street, his bare feet splashing in shallow puddles.
At the entrance of a small, worn-down shop, he sat down. Slowly, he took off his worn shirt, placed it in front of him, and waited. People passed by, rushing through their lives without a glance in his direction. Boots splashed nearby, coats brushed past him, but no one stopped. He couldn't call out to them—he never learned how to speak—so he sat silently, hoping that just one kind soul might notice him and spare a coin or a scrap of food.
Time dragged on. The air grew colder, the sun slipping behind heavy gray clouds. A few copper coins clinked onto the cloth. It wasn't much, but it was something. Enough for bread, perhaps. He gathered the coins in his small hands, put his shirt back on, and began his familiar walk to the bakery he knew well.
The city pulsed with life around him. Bright stalls displayed fruits and meats he could never afford. He walked alone, invisible among the crowds. Everywhere his eyes went, he saw families in warm coats, children laughing with their parents, people feasting on fresh meals. His heart clenched at the sight. He had no one—no family, no warmth, no laughter. His footsteps slowed when he passed a family gathered around a toy seller, a little girl hugging her father's leg while pointing at a wooden doll. His chest ached, but he quickly lowered his gaze and pressed on.
When he reached the bakery, warmth greeted him like an old friend. The rich scent of fresh bread and sweet pastries made his mouth water. He stared at the display, wide-eyed at the rows of bread and colorful cakes. One particular cake caught his attention—a soft chocolate sponge layered with vanilla cream and topped with bright strawberries. He knew he couldn't afford it, but just looking at it gave him a moment of joy.
Spotting the shopkeeper cleaning a table, he tugged gently at her apron. She glanced down and smiled warmly. "What is it, little one? Are you here to buy something?" Her voice was gentle, like the soft pastries on display.
He nodded and handed her his coins. She counted them quickly, then gave him a kind smile. "Alright, wait here. I'll get you something nice." She glanced around the shop before walking behind the counter.
Moments later, she returned with a small box in hand, her brown hair bouncing lightly as she crouched down to his level. "Here you go. A loaf of bread—and a little extra, just for today," she said, winking.
His eyes lit up. He took the box with both hands and gave her a grateful nod before dashing out into the street. The young woman watched him go, still smiling. She'd grown fond of the quiet boy, used to his visits and quiet presence. "Be safe out there," she whispered under her breath.
Clutching the box tightly, he darted through the crowded streets. His legs burned, but his heart was light. He stopped briefly in an alley to catch his breath, watching the gray sky as a few snowflakes began to fall. Rubbing his fingers together for warmth, he pressed forward again, this time walking briskly, determined to reach his destination before the snow thickened.
Gray clouds gathered overhead as the day darkened. The streets began to empty as people hurried home. He hurried along familiar paths until he reached a narrow alley, where a makeshift shelter stood at the end—cloth tied to sticks, propped up against the cold stone wall, surrounded by a few scattered belongings.
Waiting inside were two familiar faces. Girls, about his age. One had white hair, the other gray, both with the same pale gray eyes. Sisters, abandoned just like him, surviving on scraps and kindness where they could find it.
A smile tugged at his lips as he showed them the box. They rushed over, eyes sparkling with relief and happiness.
"You're back! Where did you go? We were so worried about you!" the white-haired girl asked, her soft voice laced with worry. Her eyes went to the small box in his hands and she asked out of curiosity, "What's this? Did you brought something for us?"
"I think he brought food for all of us, didn't he?" the gray-haired girl grinned, hope flickering in her expression.
He nodded and opened the box to reveal a small loaf of bread and a modest piece of cake. Their eyes widened with joy.
"Yay! We have food for tonight!" they cheered, hands clapping together in excitement.
He sat down on their worn cloth floor, dividing the bread into three portions—giving the larger pieces to the girls, keeping the smallest for himself.
"Why do you always take the smallest piece?" the white-haired girl frowned. "You'll get weak if you don't eat enough."
"Yeah, you need to eat more too," the gray-haired sister chimed in. "It's not fair if we have more than you."
He just smiled and shook his head, unwilling to take more. The girls split their portions and gave him extra anyway, pressing the bread into his hands.
"You shouldn't do that to yourself. Here, eat some more," the white-haired girl insisted.
Reluctantly, he accepted, his heart warm despite the cold around them. They ate quietly, enjoying their small meal, and shared the sweet cake before tossing the empty box aside.
Night fell quickly, and the temperature dropped. The sisters lay down, huddled together, while he closed up their little tent, securing the corners of cloth to block out the wind. Curling up at the edge, he listened to the soft breathing of his friends, their quiet warmth easing the harshness of the night. His own eyelids grew heavy, and for a brief moment, despite the biting cold, he felt a sliver of peace before drifting into sleep.