62 Winter 515AV
It was just after midnight rest. The Sharai peak was bathed in blues as the waning moon shone brightly on the new snow mounds from yesterday’s downfall. Not many people were out and about, many were still happily cooped up in their homes, while the rest were farmers who did their business by day who were either too cold to be out or they were asleep. The walk way into Sharai had been cleared, painstakingly, earlier today and people were free to come and go from the peak; though many still took to their houses rather than brave the foot of snow outside. All of Sharai had that still quiet that only Winter’s breath can bring.
A lone man sat on a bench along the main walking path from Sharai to Shinyama, he was on the first bench outside of the bridge connecting the two, seated by a mound of snow nearly three feet high. He had his head in his hands and to anyone looking hard enough seemed to be under some degree of stress. Beside him sat two large burlap sacks, crumpled in a heap to his left on a bench. He was leaned over with his elbows on his thighs and began rubbing his hands together as he was talking to himself.
“Just do it, in and out, wham-bam thank you ma’am.”
He rubbed his head, covered in a light stubble where he wasn’t balding, still hunched over. Small puffs of breath were coming from his mouth, to be seen in the cold air, a sign that he was breathing rather fast. His stress seemed to peak and he clasped his hands together then looked skyward. An action that looked to be pious, as if he were sending a message to the gods. With that, he got to his feet, dusted off the seat of his pants, and began walking with his sacks rolled up tightly in hand. As he set off away from the bridge his figure shrunk into the night.
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He didn’t stop walking until he got to the heart of the farms. Here, in front of the neighborhood ration station, he paused and once again looked to the moon, this time kissing his hand and pressing it up above his head to send the kiss to the heavens. It would seem he was alone, or so he thought. Nearby the silo stood grimly in the night. Here the people of Sharai could get their rations, but this place was also one of the silo’s where food was kept before shuttling it out to the other peaks.
The man paused outside of the door, looked around, seeing no one, then pressed his ear to the entrance in an effort to see who was inside. There seemed to be no one, so he tried the handle and the door opened. Some one must have forgotten to lock it today. The door groaned and creaked upon his entry. It had started. As lightly as he could he shut the door behind him, but unbeknownst to him he left the door open just a crack.
Once inside he opened the bags and worked as quickly as possible. Six onions in one bag. Twenty four potatoes on top of that and a wheel of cheese to boot. In the second sack he grabbed a bag of flour and stuffed it in there along with a sack of sugar. His prayer must have worked, this was the easiest time he had ever had thieving. “Wham-bam thank you ma’am”, indeed.