Gabrielle Pilote

don't let unrealistic expectations overshadow the fulfillment of your achievements

A Million apple pies filled stars, And she'd be staring.

And she'd be staring at the stars, replaying the events in her head. To the tiniest detail. The elderly woman was there, sitting on the edge of the curb, begging money to the crowd of people walking out of the office, rushing home on a Friday night. eager to jump into one of the first warm weekends of spring. She was sitting, begging money, only God knows what for. Food? A son? A daughter? Cigarettes? Drugs? Alcool? Hey, leathery face, the skin burned, wrinkled, tired. Her dark clothes, dirty, smelly. The yellow of her teeth, of her eyes balls. Her hunched back. The girl could almost feel the ache, the weight of all those years pressing down of the poor lady's shoulders. Her sorrows, tormenting. She couldn't help but think how cold the rays of the sun felt on her back, staring at the scene happening in front of her. People, walking by, ignoring the older woman, they couldn't even see like she was now part of the brick wall on which she was leaning. The girl turned around. Leaving her friend. she turned back to where she first came from. She walked into a bakery nearby. For a moment, she stood there, looking at the bread, the pastries, all the golden and buttery goodness. She was incapable of deciding which to chose from all the choices. Her eyes caught on the last piece of what once was a delicious looking apple cake. She bought the last piece. holding the treat like it was the most delicate little bird, the girls could feel in her hand the softness of the pastry, she could smell the sweetness that was emanating from the little package. Her mind staring wondering, memories of home. Home was so far away. She saw the kitchen, she smelled the butter, the sugar, the fresh apples. She felt the heat of the oven. She could see her grandmother, her mother, working the dough, peeling, slicing the fruits, stirring the caramel in the saucepan. The taste of pie came vividly to her mouth. She was shocked by the realness of her thoughts. She paid for the cake and walked out of the shop where she found her friend again. She walked back to the old lady, still sitting on that curb, still begging for money. The girl reached down to where the woman was sitting, she granted her silver package, offering her best smile to the woman. The old lady looked right at her, her face lid up. she had the most amazing smile, her eyes were shining of million stars. She put her cup filled with a couple cents down, as she took the cake from the hands of the young girls, she thanked her. the street lid up, the world slowed down. It was now warm around the two women. The girl and her friend walked away, the old lady stayed there, she kept begging, she ate the cake. And she'd be staring at the stars, remembering in the eyes of the old lady, a million stars, and the word slowed down. Her heart, filled with warmth, she closed her eyes, she tasted the apple pie, her grandmother, her mother, she cried a single tear, she felt asleep.

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