Chapter 3 - A Piece of Sugar and Stone
The gravel crunched beneath the heels of my evening shoes, each step sounding unnaturally loud in the service alcove. The little girl lifted her head, her eyes wide with sudden terror, scrambling backward until her spine hit the rough brick wall. She looked like a trapped animal, her breathing coming in ragged, shallow gasps.
"Hey," I said softly, crouching down until my eye level matched hers. The silk of my red gown pooled on the dusty concrete, a brilliant splash of crimson against the drab gray background. "It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you."
She sniffled, wiping a dirty forearm across her tear-streaked cheek, leaving a smear of dark grime over her skin. "Are you going to yell again?" she whispered, her voice cracking with exhaustion.
"No," I replied, the word catching in my throat as the weight of my earlier harshness pressed down on me. "I'm sorry I yelled. That wasn't kind."
She stared at me, studying my face with an intense, searching gaze that unnerved me. Slowly, her shoulders relaxed just a fraction. "I was just hungry," she murmured, looking down at her bare, scratched feet. "The food smelled so good. I didn't mean to touch it. I just wanted a little piece."
The memory of the multi-tiered cake with its gold floral decorations flashed in my mind. It had been untouched, pristine, destined to be admired, sliced, and half-eaten before being discarded into industrial bins. And this child had been driven by raw, hollow hunger to brave the lights and the crowd just for a scrap of sustenance.
Without thinking, I reached into the beaded evening clutch I still held in my left hand. Inside, wrapped in a linen cocktail napkin from the bar, was a small, untouched slice of almond cake with a delicate swirl of buttercream that a passing waiter had handed to me before the incident. I unfolded the napkin and extended it toward her on my open palm.
May you like
The girl stared at the cake, then up at my eyes, distrust warring with the desperate need in her belly. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out a small, dirt-smudged hand and took the piece.
Before she could take a bite, the harsh beam of a flashlight cut through the darkness of the courtyard.
