Thursday, May 6

The Last One

Photo by AIMEE YEO/THE FLAME

Behind the stack of boxed action figures and bright-colored balls was a small-framed woman, not the kind that you would pity at first glance, but the kind you would not notice at all. Old Marites sat patiently on a small stool, fanning herself with her clammy hands. She tucked the gray fringes of hair behind her ears to alleviate the bugging, humid heat.

Marites scanned the nook of every shelf in her stall. She released a long, spiritless sigh. “Not a toy sold today, huh.”

She sprung up from her seat and unfastened the ropes of a make-shift umbrella made of tattered tarpaulin.

“Maybe tomorrow,” she muttered to herself.

 As she drew the covers together, she felt the seams of her shirt being tugged. Her gaze traveled down her side to a slim, bright-eyed boy. She crouched down to meet the child’s eyes. The boy chewed onto the nails of his thumb.

Too timid to talk, but he managed to point behind him. He was gesturing towards a Captain America shield, whose colors faded due to the prolonged sun exposure.

Marites nodded. “That’s the last one.”

“I have no money with me today, “ said the boy, slightly panicking. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

Marites tilted her head to the side, a smile crossing her face. She patted the boy’s hair before he ran off to the sea of people. She rose from her knees, stood erect with hands on her hips, chest puffed out with hope. Tomorrow it isDAWN DANIELLE D. SOLANO

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