The boy left his house at the appointed time. The solitude of the walls witnessed the young man's insomnia that night, the clandestine meeting with the group the day before, the ammunition, the gunpowder, the subversive plans that had a date and time set. But those walls, too, had long witnessed the loneliness of the young man who had been orphaned as a child, the hunger, the physical and psychological abuse that the young man had suffered since he was a child. The walls and he, without dogs or cats, knew how inclement life can be.

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For months, the boy had been meeting with this group clandestinely. For the first time he felt useful and important. He felt that he was listened to, valued, and most especially, obeyed. So when they talked about the plan, he had no hesitation in accepting to be the one to carry it out. Since he was a child, he watched movies where someone had to be in the forefront of the fight: he would do it. It was his chance to excel. From that moment on he felt that the admiration for him grew, that it was enough to ask for something, for everyone to find a way to give it to him. He asked for food, then he asked for clothes: everything was given to him.

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When he closed the door of the house, he arranged the baggy shirt so that no one would suspect what he was wearing under it. When she arrived at the bus station, she looked at her watch: 8 a.m. At that time the station was very crowded. He would get on any bus and at 9, he would be news. He got into a long line, where everyone was silent. He looked ahead and saw little eyes staring at him. At first he tried to look away, but the eyes were stuck on him. The owner of those brown eyes was a boy who was about 4 years old, who was eating bread and was in the arms of a woman. The child's eyes looked at him insistently with curiosity. That look made him feel guilty, as if God was looking at him, but he immediately shook off that feeling and bought a bus ticket.

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When the young man sat down, he saw that the woman and the child were sitting in front of him. The boy offered him a small smile. The young man inadvertently also responded with a grimace. At the grimace, the boy laughed openly and hid behind the woman's face. Then he showed his face and his smile again. Obviously, the boy wanted to play, the young man thought. The young man, as if moved by something unknown, put his hands to his face and covered it up, then discovered it unexpectedly. At this, the child's laughter was heard all over the bus. All the passengers turned around and as if the laughter was contagious, some smiled. The young man laughed too. Then he hid and revealed his face again several times, while the boy laughed out loud.

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After a while, tired of so much play, the young man remembered seeing the time: 8:30. He stopped playing with the child and something like a dark shadow passed over his face. The child looked at him for a long time and, as if he were an angel, gave him the bread he was holding. The man refused to take it, and as if he had to say something, he said, "No. You eat". The child bit into the bread and then offered it to the boy again. The man had no choice but to take a bite of the bread that the boy was offering. The boy laughed again and as if eating was also a game: he bit the bread and made the young man bite too. The young man thought that no one had ever fed him with such joy and he had never eaten such tasty bread. Strangely, he felt sadness.

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It was 8:45 when the young man got off the bus and said goodbye to the child through the dirty window of the bus. The child raised his hand and waved goodbye. The young man walked slowly and looked around. He squinted as if trying to see something more clearly. Suddenly, a strong affliction invaded the young man and as if he were an old man, he felt that his legs hurt from so much walking. He walked into a lonely park and felt as if he were walking through the final tunnel, determined and sure of what lay ahead.

The next morning a newspaper reported on the explosion in the central park. There were no reports of any victims to mourn, only the man of a supposedly destitute young man, who, although he had no identification, carried only a piece of bread in his pockets.

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I hope you enjoyed reading this story. I remind you that you can vote for @adsactly as a witness and join our server in discord. Until the next smile. ;)

Written by: @nancybriti

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