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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>

	<nav class="navbar navbar-inverse navbar-fixed-top">
  		<div class="container">
		    <div class="navbar-header">
		      	<a class="navbar-brand">My Story</a>
		    </div>

		   	<ul class="nav navbar-nav navbar-right">
		        <li>
		        	<a href="../index.html">Back to home</a>
		        </li>
		        <li>
		        	<a href="../contact.html">Contact</a>
		        </li>
		   	</ul>
		</div>
	</nav>

	<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>
			</div>

			<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>Let him go.</h2>
			</div>

			<div class="col-md-12" >
				<p>You stand there, biting your lip. He’s innocent enough It’s just a little cup of gelato. What’s the worst he could do? He doesn’t even look big enough to defend himself. No wonder he ran.
				You inch forward, offering a hand, trying to keep him from shaking, but he’s petrified.
				The gelato man’s shouts are getting closer. You twist to look back at the crowded streets over your shoulder. None of the shifting groups of people look your way. If you left now, no one would be the wiser.
				Facing the boy again, you whisper. “Run.”
				He blinks once and bolts, slipping past you in the alley and disappearing into the masses on the street. You can’t even see which direction he turns after diving through the first row of bodies.
				The gelato man comes into the alley a minute later, panting.
				“Where’d he go?” he rasps, bracing against his knees as he catches his breath.
				You shrug. “I don’t know. Lost him.”
				He huffs for another minute before standing and running one hand through his sweaty mop of short, black hair. “Oh well. Come on, the least I could do is get you some gelato for your trouble.”
				He motions for you to follow as he walks back onto the main street, toddling from side to side as he goes.
				The shop is empty when you stride in. A chair or two lies upturned on the mosaic floor. Your shoes roll across the sticky tiles, messy with half-cleaned spills from earlier in the day when the primary school parents brought their kids in for an afternoon snack.
				The place smells sweet. The sharp scents of lemon and orange citrus stinging your nose as you approach the counter.
				You stand there, trying to decide which flavor to get for a minute or two before the bell chimes at your back. You turn to watch the pudgy shop keeper slide in. His face is a beaten red and he’s huffing, but otherwise he looks fairly well put together.
				“What’ll it be?” he asks, stepping behind the counter.
				You point to a flavor, and he hands you a small cup of the citrus gelato over the counter.
				“Have a nice day!”
				You nod and turn to walk out, but stop. Taking the gelato just like the boy had doesn’t feel quite right.</p>
			</div>

			<div class="col-md-12">
				<h3>
					<a href="../storypath/paytheman2.html">Pay the man.</a>
				</h3>
			</div>

			<div class="col-md-12">
				<h3>
					<a href="../storypath/leaveanyway2.html">Leave anyway.</a>
				</h3>
			</div>
		</div>
	</body>
</html>