A Boy with Coin-Stained Hands
704 Words
The puppet show ended with exaggerated bows and clumsy applause.
The crowd laughed, clapped, and slowly began to disperse. Children were tugged away by impatient parents, while others lingered, hoping for one last trick from the wooden figures.
Alice stayed where she was.
She watched as the puppeteer gathered his strings, folding the small stage with careful hands. The magic faded quickly once the movement stopped, leaving only painted wood and tangled thread.
“It’s over,” she said aloud.
Beside her, the boy nodded. “Yeah.”
They stood there in silence for a moment longer than necessary.
Alice rocked back on her heels, then glanced sideways at him. He was still staring at the empty stage, his arms now resting loosely at his sides.
She cleared her throat. “So.”
The boy turned slightly, raising an eyebrow.
“What’s your name?” Alice asked, pretending she wasn’t nervous.
He hesitated, just a little. “Alex.”
“That’s it?” she asked. “Just Alex?”
“That’s my name,” he replied simply.
She nodded, accepting it easily. “I’m Alice.”
Alex opened his mouth, as if to say something else, then closed it again. He gave a short nod instead.
The silence returned—but this time, it felt different. Less awkward. Less empty.
A vendor passed by them, balancing a wooden box filled with wrapped sweets. Warm air followed him, thick with the scent of sugar and baked dough.
Alice stopped talking immediately.
Her gaze locked onto the box as it moved past them.
Alex noticed.
“…You’re staring,” he said.
She didn’t deny it. “That smells good.”
“You want one.”
“Yes.”
He blinked. “Then buy one.”
Alice finally looked at him, expression perfectly calm. “I don’t have any money.”
Alex stared. “Then why are you telling me?”
“Because you look like someone who does.”
“I don’t,” he said quickly. “Not much, anyway.”
“But you do have some,” Alice pointed out.
Alex sighed, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a few coins, their edges worn and dull. He studied them as if reconsidering his life choices.
Then he waved at the vendor.
They each received a warm pastry wrapped in thin paper.
Alex held his up. “Since I paid, I get the bigger piece.”
Alice took a bite, then paused. “Hey.”
“What?”
“I’m a girl,” she said seriously. “You’re supposed to give me the bigger one.”
“That’s not a rule.”
“It is now.”
Alex looked at her, then at his pastry. With a quiet huff, he broke off the larger half and handed it over.
“Only this once,” he said.
Alice smiled, pleased. “You’re nice.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you didn’t say no.”
They ate in comfortable silence, standing close enough that their elbows brushed occasionally. When Alex finished first, he glanced at Alice’s half, then away again.
Before either of them could say anything else, Alice froze.
Her eyes shifted toward the far end of the market.
Several adults were moving through the crowd with purpose, their gazes scanning faces instead of stalls.
“Oh,” Alice said quietly.
Alex followed her line of sight. “What?”
Alice took a step back. “I have to go.”
“Now?”
She nodded. “Bye.”
“Wait—”
But she was already moving, slipping between people with practiced ease. Within seconds, she disappeared behind a row of hanging fabrics.
Alex stood there, pastry forgotten in his hand.
He stared at the spot where Alice had vanished, frowning slightly.
Somewhere behind the stalls, a girl slowed just long enough to feel a hand land gently on her shoulder.
“There you are,” a calm adult voice said. “We’ve been looking everywhere.”
Alice didn’t argue.
The market noise swallowed them both.
Alex remained where he was, watching the crowd shift and close as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
For some reason, the morning felt unfinished.
- Writer
