Baguettes and Beggars

Monsieur Flavio Marie reached into his pockets, groping in the hand-sized void for his brass key. His breath came out in icy puffs, the cool French air turning his cheeks rosy. Pedestrians passed him, heads tucked down and walking at a pace brisker than the temperature. His hands finally closed around the devilishly small key, and his gloved hand pulled it out and wiggled it into the lock. He heard the lock click, and then the door swung open with the slightest of creaks. 

Flavio stepped into the modest bakery, closing the door behind him. The shop wasn't much warmer than the outside, but at least there was no stinging wind. Flavio turned the lights on and waited to see the familiar flicker as half of the light bulbs shone their dim light on the small shop. Flavio went across the room to inspect the wobbly tables. There were no massive patches of dirt and no piles of crumbs, so he saw no need to wipe them down again before opening at 8:00. 

Flavio checked the large clock above the door, ticking patiently and rhythmically every second. He had thirty minutes to prepare for opening. He opened earlier than many of the other coffee shops in the area, so he needed to make sure that he was well enough stocked to last the morning rush. His baguettes were sitting in the only heated section of the building. Unwrapping them, he inhaled deeply and relished in the smell of freshness. He prided himself on the deliciousness of his baguettes, famed across Dunkirk for their quality. 

His coffee was mediocre at best, but it was of little significance. His bread had earned him the reputation of a high-quality baker, and the coffee was an aside. Mediocre coffee only drew more attention to how good his bread was, and there was a well-thought out reason he refused to serve only coffee. There were plenty of other shops for that. 

Meticulously inspecting the counter top to make sure it was polished, Flavio rolled up the sleeves of his well-floured apron. He didn't care about the tables, since no one would notice the tables due to the dim lighting, but the counter tops were always in plain sight and well-lit. To keep costs down, he intentionally encouraged people through subtle hints throughout his shop to come in, buy a piping hot bagel, and be on their way relatively quickly. For the most part, people obeyed this silent rule that hung over his shop. 

Flavio glanced at the clock and raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. He only had ten minutes. Pausing for a moment, Flavio noticed how low the temperature was. The atmosphere of the bakery was a huge selling point for his shop, as he had well noted from past experience. He made sure to turn the ovens on just to seem like he was cooking something and to warm up the room for less money, but did adjust the thermostat to just below room temperature. There was one more imperative test before the shop officially opened and was given his seal of approval. 

He stood in the back of the room and took every single element of the room in, drinking in the smells, sights, and sounds simultaneously. The front was practically sparkling from cleanliness, the only sound was the gentle ticking of the clock, which would soon be replaced with the chatter of customers, and the smell was amazing. All different types of warm breads, prepared in every which way for every different preference. 

Five minutes till opening. Flavio sighed with relief and dusted off his apron, mentally preparing himself for the first wave of customers. Only three hours till break, he reminded himself. Three hours. With a shop this good, that's probably almost 80 customers. 80 customers could bring in quite a revenue, enough to pay for Flavio's rent and to reinvest in his small little company until he was the most famous coffee shop in the area. Flavio went to change his sign to 'Open', humming merrily as he did so, and noticed a grimy face pressed against the window. 

It was another orphan. A tiny part of his heart beat with sympathy for the poor soul, but the businessman in him straightened his imaginary tie and went to heartlessly shoo the beggar away. Flavio leaned out into the door and barked at the girl, "Scram! This is a business, not an orphanage!" The girl scuttled away in fear, her face paling. Orphans were treated roughly in big cities, and Dunkirk was no exception. 

A passing businesswoman shook her head in disgust as she walked by Flavio, making sure to bump him with her elbow. Flavio turned to her, about to shout some choice words, but decided against it almost immediately. As he considered what he had just done, his heart ached as he watched the child disappear into the alleys. Immediately, the rational side of his brain protested. "Such is life, Flavio. You worked hard every day to make your dreams a reality. Someone else will find her and protect her." 

"But will they?" another voice spoke up. "What if no one cares? Out of the millions of orphans, what makes you think someone will just want the burden of a homeless child on their shoulders?" 

It was then that Flavio made a decision. He bolted out of his shop, prioritizing something over his business for the first time in 7 years. Without so much as a backwards glance, he sprinted through the alleys until he found the girl huddled up against a wall. Heart pounding, he leaned against the wall and offered her his hand. 

The girl, petrified from fear and cold, took his hand and rose to her feet. She limped as she walked, and Flavio noticed she wasn't wearing shoes but merely some half-frozen cloths. He helped her stagger back to his shop, where he invited her in and sat her down in the back. The bell above the door jangled with the sound of a customer entering, but Flavio ignored all outside distractions and unwrapped the cloths frozen around the poor girl's feet. He pulled a bench over next to the ovens and set her feet there, massaging them gently and tenderly.

"Bonjour?" the customer called uncertainly. The voice was a gentle baritone, making it apparent that this was a man speaking. He appeared to be peering around the corner towards the back, trying to see if anyone was in the shop. 

"Yes, yes, one moment please, monsieur," Flavio called. He placed the wrappings in the oven and whispered, "During my break, I will get you a new pair of shoes for the winter." The girl smiled in thanks as Flavio rose. Hurrying to the front, he greeted the new customer. 

"I would like a bagel with blueberry spread, please," the customer requested. He pulled out his exquisite leather wallet and daintily plucked two francs out and set them on the counter. Flavio whirled around and gently tugged on a bag of bagels and removed one. Twisting the bag up to keep them as fresh as possible, Flavio started to spread the blueberry jam on it. The orphan was perfectly silent in the back, not making a single noise. She seemed content but out of place, as if warmth was an abstract concept she longed for but had never received before and could not handle properly. The customer waited patiently up front, busying himself by removing dirt from under his fingernails. 

Flavio wrapped the bagel in tissue paper and gently placed it on the table. The customer gratefully exchanged the money for the bagel. Flavio punched some numbers into the cash register and handed him back his change. The customer thanked him with a murmur and a sweep of the hat, then was off. 

As soon as he was out of sight, Flavio hastened back to the storage room. The girl sat there, quietly observing him with big brown eyes. They both stood there for a moment, fully evaluating the other and taking into account every physical discrepancy. The girl seemed to be from India or some neighboring country, judging by the darkness of her skin and her deep brown eyes. Somehow, someway, she seemed perfectly at ease despite the dramatic change in her fortune. She sat perched upon a stool, skinny legs dangling comfortably off the edge. Something about her seemed enthralling, though Flavio had never seen it before and couldn't identify it. Her eyes scanned him from head to toe, showing no sign of emotion but projecting a feeling of familiarity even though the two were complete strangers. 

Flavio broke the silence with an awkward cough, then politely requested, "Would you like something to eat?"

"I would like that very much," the girl answered in fluent French. Flavio couldn't detect an accent, though something about her pronunciation reminded him of a foreigner. Still mildly puzzled, Flavio hustled back to the front of the store and removed a slightly stale baguette. He reentered the room and handed it to the girl. 

When she took it, their hands brushed against each other's for a split second. Flavio felt a few hard callouses on her hand, and immediately was ashamed of how delicate and soft his hands were. She was probably only 7 or 8, but yet had worked harder than he had in all of his years of life. Sensing his shame, the girl smiled gently at him without any sort of judgement present in her gaze. 

"What's your name?" she asked softly. 

"Flavio Marie," he answered. "And you?"

"My name is  Adaki Laghari, but you may call me Anna," she replied. Her smile seemed to be a string of lightbulbs stretching across her face, setting the room aglow. Flavio extended his hand in courtesy, and she took it and held it firmly as they shook. Looking deep into her eyes, Flavio decided then and there that he would be willing to lose his business to save this little girl. 

And for the first time in his life, he felt truly happy.