Life Story: Corduba, Before the Grain Riots
(Diary Fragment – Corduba, Anno CLXIX)
The boy had been caught near the stables, crouched in the shadows, a loaf of bread half-hidden in his cloak. When the guard found him, red-faced and snarling, he dragged the child forward before the crowd.
“He stole from the granaries,” the man bellowed. “That’s bread meant for soldiers.”
I studied the boy’s hands—dirt caked beneath his nails. His cheeks were hollow, eyes not wild but heavy with resignation. Without a word, I reached into the nearby crate, pulled free a fresh loaf, and pressed it into the child’s trembling hands.
“Next time,” I said softly, “don’t wait until you’re starving.”
The guard bristled, lips curling in outrage, but I did not meet his gaze. I simply turned and said, “Let him go.”
The boy did not hesitate. He bolted into the deserted streets of Corduba, crumbs trailing behind him like sparks, leaving only the echo of his gratitude in the hushed air.
