Hybrid Daughters Of The Mafia

The world smelled of rain and old tires. She didn't know how long she'd been sleeping, but her bones ached with the weight of it. The cardboard had shifted in the night, leaving her exposed to the cold cement beneath. The blanket was gone, again.

Rain pulled herself to her knees, fingers scraping against the rough ground. A low groan escaped her lips, but she swallowed it. No one cared about her aches. No one cared at all.

She shoved her thin coat around her shoulders, still damp from the mist that rolled through the streets overnight. The alley behind the bakery was quieter than usual. The man who'd tossed the stale bread the day before had gone, and with him, any hope for breakfast.

Her stomach grumbled, but she stayed still for a moment. She listened to the hum of the city, the faint clink of coins in the distance.

There was no rush. There was never a rush.

When she finally stood, her legs wobbled beneath her. The air was thick, and she couldn't tell if it was from the smoke that lingered in the air or the heaviness in her chest. She pushed through it. She had to.

She walked the familiar path toward the market, her feet making soft thuds against the cracked pavement. She wasn't hungry-not yet-but she wasn't sure how much longer she could pretend. The dizziness that swam in her mind had started to linger. Like a shadow that wouldn't let go.

The people moved around her like they always did-like she wasn't there. No one ever asked. No one ever wondered if she was cold or hungry.

She wasn't anything to them.

A child bumped her shoulder as they passed. A small group of laughing kids, talking about something she couldn't catch. She took a step back to avoid their eyes.

The day passed like a blur. She wandered, her legs carrying her without thinking. Past the newsstands. Past the tiny stores with brightly lit signs, some offering comfort, some offering nothing at all. There were no dreams here.

There were no promises.

She thought of the man in the bakery. Maybe he would be back tomorrow. Or the day after. Or never again. She didn't know. She didn't expect much. Nothing here had ever promised her anything.

By the time the sun began to dip, the hunger hit her again. She found a spot near a bus stop, leaning against a trashcan. The sky was turning gray, like a bruise spreading slowly. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find sleep where it didn't exist.

A flicker of movement-someone walking with their head down. Their bag slung over their shoulder, too full to notice her. She reached out, fingers brushing the edges of the bag, hoping for a moment of luck.