*Geoffrey*

I cough as dust swirls up from sweeping the front step of the bakery. The smell of bread wafts out through the door, and my stomach grumbles. But I will only get a stale crust of three-day-old bread if I do a good job today.

Yesterday, I did not get any bread.

It wasn’t my fault. A merchant’s daughter scuffed mud on the steps just as I finished cleaning them. The baker came out, saw the mud, beat me, and sent me away.

I’ve promised to do a better job today.

I scrub the broom around the edges of the steps and in the cracks with all my might....