GENRE: YA SECRET
Sometimes I have to catch myself, as if I haven't been breathing for who knows how long. Now’s one of those moments. I draw in the deepest inhale, filling my lungs as if they’ve been deprived of oxygen all day. Of course they haven’t. Air happens to be one of those necessities to life. But the feeling is as real as life, too.
Rinse and repeat.
It’s within those moments, it’s easy to do the things I’m least proud of. Or most, depending on how you approach it; your approach dependent on how many years you’ve spent on the streets.
And I’ve lost count.
I look down. It’s in my hands, swaddled in muslin and still warm, like a newborn baby. I’m holding onto it like one, too. Precious. Delicate. The loaf, sweet and filled with poppy seeds, will keep me alive and full for the remainder of the day, but that’s just today.