I Didn't Pray For These Baguettes Mga Nobela at Kwento

I get up from the bed and change into my pajamas. "Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done. On earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory for ever and ever, amen." I stand up and enter into the sheets with the thought of getting as much sleep as possible but something feels different. Like I'm missing something.

When the food finally arrives, Mr Cross does something I never expected. He clasped his hands, close his eyes and prayed. When he opens his eyes, he is staring at me. "What? Never seen a person pray before." "Actually no, it's foreign to me," I tell him. And I guess it is so for a few other people around, because they are staring as well. "I grew up not having much, so I am always grateful for what I have now. And in a world like this, I have to be because there are still so much hungry people out there."

No time for anything else. Outside, I worked the neighborhood, moving fast but casual. The baker two doors down was dusting flour off his apron when I stepped into the warm, yeasty air. “Excusez-moi,” I said smoothly, showing him the photo. His brows lifted. “Oui… that man. Came for coffee. A few mornings. Never bought bread, never bought croissants. Just coffee. Paid in cash.” He shrugged, rubbing his hands on his apron. “Strange one.”

Even I knew that they wanted me to start the prayer. But I did not know how to start it. Since before, I only closed my eyes and copied the words from the sisters, thus, doing it now seemed a little difficult. Okay fine, a lot difficut. I was searching for the heavenly words to say, but it was too much for my thinking. It gave us a long deafening silent, while everyone was already bowed and had their hands together. "We thank the saints for giving us food on our table to enjoy now for our thanksgiving..." I stopped hearing the words, and just watched him invoke to the saints.

That's the only feeling he feels anyway! "Ple-ase forg-ive us, Ki-ing!" I hear a familiar voice stuttering. I looked at him in confusion. Why are they apologizing to him? What happened?

I have never seen a hundred-dollar note before. “This is too much dad,” I said, sounding scared, he waved his hand at me, “I need to break it anyways, also make sure you get a copy of the receipt.” He yelled out at me. I nod my head, “Ok.” I replied. I go use the loos, once done and cleaned up I go and see what food they have. I ordered dad the all-day breakfast baguette, myself a bacon baguette a bottle of juice as well, along with some lollies, chocolates, chips, and soft drinks for the road, I didn’t get him a drink as I have no idea if he wanted a coffee or something else, I grabbed the food and head towards an open, clean table.

Not that public speaking was ever her thing, but she could certainly whip something up into a script that she could perhaps read aloud – or ask somebody else to. A prayer was different because if you memorized it, the teachers would criticize you for not speaking from the heart. It didn’t have black-and-white rules either. It was either you knew what to do or you didn’t, and it all went down to whether you prayed regularly at home aloud with your family. The Lapuz family did try to start an Our Daily Bread habit for a while, but since it was only Kate and Mrs. Lapuz alternating to the exclusion of the soft-spoken and always impatiently hungry Mr. Lapuz, the habit fizzled out.

I said and took some toast on my plate, and served everyone the juice. “Let's pray first,” Rebecca said just when Albert was about to put two toast in his mouth. “Yeah, okay” he placed the toast back and we joined our hands together to pray. “LORD, we thank you for providing food for us today. We ask that you bless this food and let it be a source of nourishment to our body and we ask that you provide for those who have nothing to eat. Amen,'' Becca prayed. “Amen,” we chorused and began eating.

I could see her salivating, evidence that she really loved the food. I was worried, but I couldn't let that baffle me. "Dear, could you say a prayer for us?" I asked Gerrard, placing my palm on his. He sat next to me, so it was easier for my hands to get to his. He sighed. Then nodded. We all bowed our heads and closed our eyes. "Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty through Christ our Lord. Amen." Everybody responded saying Amen.

I sauntered into the quaint little store on the corner, its bell chiming cheerfully as I pushed the door open. The aroma of freshly baked croissants wafted through the air, instantly wrapping me in a warm, buttery embrace. I grinned, feeling victorious in my choice of the day's treat – two fragrant croissants that could rival the Eiffel Tower in their magnificence.