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

Lighter or darker bake? Maybe I could get them baguettes, butter, and some specialty jams... They had freshly in-house made jams ranging from strawberry to apricots to— "Rafael? I didn't expect to see you here. What are you doing in midtown?" A pair of green eyes popped up in front of me. Benedict waved energetically at me as he blocked my field of vision with his big old messy head of hair. I sighed and straightened up back. "It's nothing."

“Yeah, well. People change.” Ricardo raised a suspicious brow. “So now you pray?” “Yes,” I said solemnly. “When food this holy appears, you show respect.” He shook his head, chuckling under his breath, but folded his hands anyway. “Fine. Lead the way, Pope Ryan.” I bowed my head slightly and mumbled, “Dear God, thank you for this food. Thank you for sparing Ricardo’s fingers. And thank you for cinnamon and YouTube tutorials. Amen.” Ricardo laughed quietly, shaking his head as I grinned.

“The McQueen rolls sounds nice.” He grins, but still shakes his head, “The McQueens don’t cook.” “Well, you do.” I point out. He raises his hands in surrender, “Let’s see how it goes.” He picks the roll, and he is about to eat when I speak, “Shouldn’t we say grace?” His brow rises. “I don’t say grace.” Yeah, I remember why. I sigh, and not wanting to make him do what he doesn’t want to, I say, “Fine, I will say grace alone.” I close my eyes, muttering a silent thanksgiving prayer, and when I finish, I open my eyes.

“Let’s not keep the food waiting any longer; come, let’s eat.” I sat down and, without hesitation, reached for a piece of bread on the plate before me to eat. I noticed Lyon’s gaze on me, and I turned to find him carefully staring at me. “You didn’t pray; you used to pray.” I dropped the loaf of bread on the plate awkwardly and stared at him, not knowing how to respond. I used to pray when I was home, but after leaving for the university, you can say I wandered off. I wasn’t proud of that, but I was way past the point of return.

"You meanie! You knew that bread was hard and did this on purpose!" Seeing June nearly crying, Frederick quickly explained, "This is Fancenia's baguette, it's as hard as a stick. In fact, I once saw a kind old lady at Fancenia give one to a hungry homeless man..."

The crowd gasped, stepping back in shock. The rat itself didn't faze me—instead, I was shocked to realize just how utterly unfamiliar the man I had known for over 20 years had become. Lucas pulled a handful of crumpled notes from his pocket and threw them at my face. Each one was filled with hateful insults. "Whore!" "Homewrecker! You deserve to die!" The writing was messy and distorted, as if scrawled by someone in a frenzy. "I've told you countless times—rescuing Cass is my job! And as a friend, of course, I'd be there for her when she needs me! And yet, you humiliated Cass over something so trivial! You're the real disgrace!"

They took each other's hands, and with closed eyes, began to recite The Lord's Prayer in French; some of the only French that Mikael knew fluently: Notre Père, qui es aux cieux, que ton nom soit sanctifié, que ton règne vienne, que ta volonté soit faite sur la terre comme au ciel. Donne-nous aujourd'hui notre pain de ce jour. Pardonne-nous nos offences comme nous pardonnons aussi à ceux qui nous ont offensés. Et ne nous soumets pas à la tentation, mais délivre-nous du mal, car c'est à toi qu'appartiennent le règne,

The moment I stepped outside, I let out a shaky breath. Andre loved chocolate croissants. Every time I bought one, he'd insist on taking the bigger piece. Then he'd laugh and claim he deserved it because he was younger. A weak smile appeared on my face. I really wished I was sharing these with him right now. I started walking back toward my street. Then suddenly stopped. A presence stood directly in front of me. The plastic bag slipped from my hand and hit the ground. The croissants rolled from the bag. My hands turned cold instantly.

I said as I ran down along with my phone inside my pocket going to the dining area. Right after I sat beside Mom, the three of us closed our eyes as Mom leads our prayer. "Bless us Oh Lord and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive. From thy bounty through Christ our Lord, Amen," we then draw a cross in our body. We then grabbed a portion of food and munch it abruptly. Mom and Dad were talking about businesses and stuff like that but I can't seem to relate to their topic. I just delivered my attention from eating and focusing on the bright side.

“My little girl is sick, please if you have food, please spare me some food. Please.” Almost immediately, I don’t think about myself. I think about this man. About his family. About his little girl. I grab my rucksack and dig in to find for food. Or something that I could give him. Finding myself mentally saying a prayer to the Harvest Goddess, my hand hits something hard. Releasing a breath of relief, I blindly hold onto it. It was one of my rations, I must have missed it because it was so small. A stale piece of bread.