<!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>Go investigate the shop. You’re hungry.</h2> </div> <div class="col-md-12" > <p>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/paytheman1.html">Pay the man.</a> </h3> </div> <div class="col-md-12"> <h3> <a href="../storypath/leaveanyway1.html">Leave anyway.</a> </h3> </div> </div> </body> </html>