Frosty Wind Made Moan

11

11

They had returned to that first street. There sat the boy, with his Caixinha box, hand held out to passers-by, and next to him, sat the other boy. The one with the wooden box filled with brushes and cloths. That boy picked up that box and moved away up the street, tapping the occasional person on the elbow. Most ignored him, but, every so often, one person would look around.

"Shoe shine? Cheap!" The boy held up the box, showing the contents to the man or woman that they stopped. "Make your shoes look shiny and new. Very cheap!"

Most of those that stopped turned away, continuing on to wherever they needed to go, but the boy did not seem at all deterred. They carried on, stopping people, saying the same words. Every so often, one person would take pity and allow the boy to shine their shoes, dropping a few coins in the little hand. One or two even ruffled the boy's hair, thanking them for a good job.

Toby found it all less than fascinating. He didn't see why the old man showed him this boy, with his face so dirty, Toby could hardly see what the boy looked like. He did clean shoes well, though, but that still didn't make it any less boring following the boy as he wended his way through the crowds.

"I'm not interested in this. Seeing that other boy's life was enough." He tried not to remember how he felt upon seeing the other boy's selflessness. It made him think about himself too much. "I already said I understand. I'm selfish, yeah? Lesson learned."

"This is a different situation." They continued following the boy, watching him do the same thing over and over again. "This one will show another side of want. Let us move on."

The old man's fingers gripped Toby's shoulder and the crowds began to zip by once again. Even this trick had started to get old and Toby wondered if the old man did it like this as another lesson. A lesson that Toby didn't understand if it was. Again, the scenes around them began to darken as the Sun began its steady fall toward the horizon.

When time returned to its normal pace, they caught up with the boy as he reached an alley, where boxes sat upon boxes. Rough wood set out in a way that the boy could clamber up to a nearby roof. The old man's wand reappeared and the winds with it, lifting them upwards as the boy climbed and jumped from roof to roof, waving at people as they ran by. He seemed happy in his little life.

After a while, the boy stopped upon a roof that had no door opening out to it and Toby realised this was where the boy must live. A ramshackle lean-to, attached to a wide chimney by fraying ropes, had a pile of things beneath it. A ripped, dirty sleeping bag and an old, musty pillow, with rotting, old, woollen blankets and several plastic bags filled with various odd objects.

The boy fell upon the sleeping bag and began to count the coins that they had earned for that day. It looked like a good amount, with even a few notes that they boy flattened and ironed out with his hands. Then, the boy moved around the chimney, finding a bucket with a cloth over the top. When the boy removed the cloth, Toby retched at the smell.

"That stinks!" He turned away, trying to stop himself from being sick. "I don't need to smell this! God!"

The boy didn't seem bothered by the smell at all. From one of the plastic bags, he pulled out a long rubber glove, pulling it onto his arm, reaching past his elbow, and from behind the bags, a big bottle of water. He unscrewed the stopper, then launched his gloved hand into the bucket that stank. With a grimace, the boy pulled out a bag, dripping with disgusting looking water. With the chinking, tinkling sound, Toby could tell it was money. A big bag of money.

With the water from the big bottle, the boy cleaned the bag and the glove, away near the edge of the roof, before going back to the sleeping bag. He opened the bag of money and dropped the newly earned coins and notes inside before fastening the bag again and dunking it back into the stinking bucket. The bucket returned to the other side of the chimney and the boy settled down, sighing.