Wings
 

“Stop that kid! He stole some of my bread.”

The baker’s shouts could be heard up and down the dusty street. No one stopped the boy running, they only watched as his red tennis shoes slammed the ground and hot tears streamed down his cheeks. The baker turned on his heel and started inside to call the sheriff.

Back inside the bakery, a kind man walked up to the baker and interrupted his phone call.

“I'll be with you in a minute, sir, I need to report that ruffian. He’s been stealing my bread every day for a week. Someone needs to teach him a lesson.”

The old man looked at the baker, tipped his hat, and put one hundred dollars into his angry hand.

“His mother was buried two weeks ago, and his father is deployed in Iraq. Let the boy go.”

The old man walked out without saying another word, and when the baker looked up, he swear he saw that old man had wings.