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<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
	<head>
		<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
		<title>My Story - Home</title>
		<link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../stylesheet/bootstrap.css">
	</head>

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		      	<a class="navbar-brand">My Story</a>
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		        	<a href="../index.html">Back to home</a>
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	<body class="container">
		<div class="row">
			<div class="col-md-12 well">
				<h1>Momentum</h1>
				<p>by Hannah Hunt</p>
			</div>

			<div class="col-md-12" >
				<p>Heat presses against you as you wander the crowded streets. Bodies shuffle this way and that, all shouting and shoving to get closer to the vendors at the edges of the crowd. You wipe a hand across your forehead and sigh. Today is going to be tough, and you are just getting started. Levi said he would be out here soon, that he would meet you on the corner of Renolli so you could finally get started working the streets. Only he is nowhere in sight. It is time to make a decision.</p>
			</div>

			<div class="col-md-12 well">
				<h2>Stay and wait on the corner another five minutes.</h2>
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			<div class="col-md-12" >
				<p>You lean against the building, watching as people dash back, chasing down vendors for clothing or food, waving their trades madly beneath the desert sun.
				Someone’s shouting from a block down. It’s the man who owns the gelato store you and Levi would always stop at after school during the year. The man busts from the door, racing after someone.
				“Thief! Thief!”
				You’re curious, if not a little sympathetic as the man races after a slender figure in tattered clothes. You...</p>
			</div>

			<div class="col-md-12 well">
				<h2>Help catch the thief</h2>
			</div>

			<div class="col-md-12" >
				<p>You dash down the street, pushing your way through the crowds as the summer sun beats down on your back. People twist to stare as you dart past, using your elbows and shoulders to slip through the packs of bodies trading on the street.
				A few vendors look up as you weave past, but don’t turn to alert the Service officers on the corner. It’s obvious you’re trying to help the gelato man.
				You reach the pudgy shopkeeper after a couple blocks, your heart pounding.
				“Hey, kid,” he rasps, struggling to keep from teetering as you round one corner and then another.
				“Hey,” you say nodding in return as your hair flops into your eyes. The man’s face is a blotchy red and he’s panting, but you feel fine, able to run the next three miles with ease if you had to thanks to all your time running with Levi during your school days.
				Your culprit whips around one corner than another, weaving between buildings as people start to jump out of his way. You push forward, diving around the next bend and find him cornered in an alley.
				The gelato vendor lags behind a few blocks. You can hear him shouting at you over your shoulder.
				“Don’t lose him!”
				But you look at the boy in front of you. He doesn’t even look to be twelve with shaggy brown hair and terrified eyes. He clutches a half-smashed cup of gelato in one hand, a spoon in another.</p>
			</div>

			<div class="col-md-12 well">
				<h2>Grab him.</h2>
			</div>

			<div class="col-md-12" >
				<p>You lunge forward, ignoring the horror on his round face, and wrap your arms around him. He struggles, desperate to slip out of your grip.
				“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he screams.
				You hold on tighter and hope that the gelato man will show up soon. Your arms are getting tired of clinging to the thin fabric of the boy’s t-shirt beneath the sweltering sun.
				“Please! I didn’t mean to steal it. I thought I had enough to trade for it, but when I looked all my silver was gone. I’m sorry!”
				You bite your lip. You know what it’s like to look down and have your money and silver trades swiped from beneath your nose.</p>
			</div>

			<div class="col-md-12 well">
				<h2>Run with him.</h2>
			</div>

			<div class="col-md-12" >
				<p>“Come on.” You motion him forward. “We’re getting out of here.”
				You know what will happen if the gelato man catches the boy. He’ll call service and the kid will get his hand chopped off or something. Levi’s told you all the horror stories of what happens the thieves. It’s what comes with your line of work.
				“Let’s go,” you hiss, beckoning the boy forward.
				He walks up to you, eyes careful, judging, and takes your open hand. “Okay.”
				You nod and pull him back into the crowd on the street. But the gelato man spots you.
				“Thief! Thieves!” he screams, pointing at the two of you.
				You glance at the boy and bolt, dragging him along behind you. He laughs as you whip around corners and dive between groups of people. He drops his uneaten gelato after the third or forth block and simply runs with you, grinning the whole way.
				You whip around corners together, diving into the thickest crowds.
				You slip past people, pulling more silver from their pockets as you go. If you’re going to be accused as a thief, then you might as well play the part. Service won’t listen to your side of things anyway. Syd’s certainly not going to hear you out. He’ll take his Service’s side over yours any day just so he can get on with his own plans for the evening. He’s probably looking forward to dinner served on gold platters.
				Eventually you lose the sound of Service boots in the distance, and you reach the bridge back to your home island of Venezia, the textile sector of the archipelago that makes up Cidy. Your bag three times heavier then it was when you started your work this evening.
				You’re exhausted by the time you make it to your floor of the Hourglass Tower in the center of the island. You kick at your door and the sheet of metal slides open to reveal your atrium-like living room. You scowl when you spot your older brother lying on the couch, a holoscreen in his hand with a videogame haloing his face in blue holograms.
				He sits upright when you drop your bag onto the floor and grins at you. “Hey, kiddo. How was your day?”
				You walk over and collapse beside him on the couch as your mother glances at you from where she’s cooking dinner on the stove.
				“Well?” Levi nudges you with his elbow.
				You roll your eyes. “Let me tell you....”</p>
			</div>

			<div class="col-md-12">
				<h4>
					End.
				</h4>
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				<h3 style="text-align:center;">
					<a href="../storypath/start.html">Go back to start</a>
				</h3>
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