““You there?” she whispers. “Here, here.” Like she’s calling for a cat. I might as well be a cat, Kid thinks bitterly, except even cats are given more of a care than a homeless girl. The woman steps out in full now, swinging a bag of trash at her back. With a sick grunt, she flings it into a dumpster, then lets loose a length of bread from her pocket. “There or not, they won’t notice just one of them gone. Sanctum-paid, it is.” She waves the long stale thing in the air, as if making one last dar...e. “Show yourself. It’s been an awful long time, hasn’t it? An awful long time not to see someone’s face.”Kid has learned. She has learned so well. I will never show my face to another person. She doesn’t want anyone else to die. People seem to, no matter, when she lets herself out of the sightlessness.“Pity,” says the woman, then tosses the loaf to the ground. “One of these days … one of them, I’m sure.” Then she reenters the building, pulls shut the door.Kid makes a swipe at the loaf, annoyed that it hit the ground, but bread this quality is difficult to come by.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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