It's morning. The light is barely reaching the sky. And our stomachs ache with a sharp pain. We pool together what little money we have and make our way to the grocery store. They hate us in there, but we're paying customers so they can't force us out. 

We cower away from the shoppers in their new, clean clothes who sneer down their noses at us. They have clean hair and clean faces and clean hands. They match the stony surreality of the grocery store perfectly. 

Trayve and Stelli look at the piles and towers of food all around us with large, aching, hungry eyes. It hurts my heart to see. I wish I could get them all the mountains of food that are displayed in here. I wish I could shove something in my pockets and run. But I can't. The sensors would go off. 

"Guys, let's get the stuff and get out of here dash," Kalkita whisphers. 

"Yeah," Monan agrees. I take Stelli's hand just as it was about to reach an apple and I pull her towards the bread section. I ruffle her hair as a sort of apology when she looks at me with those big eyes of hers. Though I'm exhausted. 

We take one loaf of bread and two cans of beans. It's not enough. Not nearly enough. It's painful. But my kids straggle close to me as I place the items in front of the cashier. 

This cashier is an older man. The he looks at us with sad eyes. Not truly sympathetic eyes, no. But eyes that feel a certain level of guilt at seeing our bone-weary condition. 

He gives us three apples for free with our purchase. Older cashiers are always nice. 

"Thank you," Monan says to him. I give him a weary smile. 

We sit down to eat our food in the alley behind the grocery store. We pass around the one bottle of water we have along with it. Each of us get four pieces of bread and a third of the can of beans. Stelli gets a full apple and the other two apples we split between the remaining four of us. That is all the food we will have for today. It's not less food than we normally get. 

We have no time to make it last. We have to be on the streets by the time the morning commuters get out and about. We have to make the most of the day so we have money tomorrow. 

As we eat Stelli tells us about the dream she had last night. 

"We were all running down a big big staircase," she continues, "and at the bottom there was a giant cat. It was a nice cat." 

"Wow," Kalkita smiles at her. 

"We all got on it's back." 

"And then what?" Trayve asks. Stelli doesn't say anything as she chews on her piece of bread. 

"It took us to the forest." 

"Wow," I say, "that must've been scary."

"No it was very nice." 

"I'm glad you had that dream." Monan's tired voice is sugar sweet. 

We walk to our corner of the city streets, steps aching, and we disperse. My heart pangs with aching as I watch them go. They're my family. My kids. I want to spend more time with them. But we take what we have. We take what we have to take. 

Before she leaves with Kalkita I hear Stelli cough. I think nothing of it. We're all sick. We all cough. But something in my heart is afraid. 

———

I watch the horizon darken as I walk towards the post where my family is gathered. Everyone's face is clouded over with worry. As I keep walking I see why. Stelli bursts into an uncontrollable coughing fit, that lasts minutes. The poor little girl is deathly pale and sickly. Even more so than usual. It sends waves of heavy dread through my heart and down into my stomach. 

If she needs medicine she's going to die. 

I hasten my steps to get to my family faster. 

"Is Stelli okay?" I ask everyone. Monan looks at me with eyes clouded over in dread. 

"No," Kalkita finally answers, "she's got a horrible cough." My heart drops into my stomach. 

"You're strong, Stelli," I tell her, "you'll make it through this. I promise." But she's not strong, is she? She's nine years old. She's a young child. 

When we get to the piles of cardboard boxes that we sleep in, Monan tucks himself close behind Stelli's back and the rest of us lie down on the other side of the narrow alley. We hide away in the small stretch of alley where the street lights don't reach in. And we try to make her more comfortable. 

In the fading light Monan gently strokes her hair. The rest of us tell her a story. She shivers in the chilly air. 

"Once there was a girl that had wings," Trayve starts.

"And her name was Stelli," I add. 

"She had to hide her wings from everyone," Kalkita whisphers solemnly. 

"Why?" Stelli asks in a hoarse, weak voice. 

"Shh, don't talk," Kalkita chides.

"Okay," Stelli croaks. 

"Stelli. Don't talk." I try and fail to keep humour in my worried voice. 

"She had to hide her wings because everyone would want to study her," Trayve answers finally. 

"The scientists would want to know why she had wings and they would do all kinds of experiments on her." I make up the next part of the story. 

"Of course she did fly," Monan says, "but in secret." 

Our little girl coughs into the cold night air. And it's an agonized sound. A horrible sound. I try to push down my fear for her sake. If we all panic she will panic more. But hope is hard to hold on to. 

But we comfort her in the tiniest way, in the only way that we can. We tell her the story. We tell her about how the little girl walked to the meadow at the very edge of town where nobody would see her and she flew in secret. We tell her about the children she met playing in the meadow. About how they were kind to her and they were nice friends. About how she trusted them enough to show them her wings. We talk of the adventures they had together tricking people who were greedy and vain. We talk of how one day it was time for this Stelli to go back to the lands where she came from, where everyone had wings. And how all the other children wanted to come along. So she brought them along. 

We talk until we can't see each other in the darkness anymore. Until she falls asleep. And then there is horrible, horrible silence that is thick with dread. We all want to say something. None of us can. 

I think of how we've all been sick before. We've all been gravely sick before. We've all been close to death before. And yet we're all still here. If we could make it those times we can make it this time. I try to tell myself this. But I don't believe it. How many times can you cheat death before death catches up to you? We've cheated death too many times. 

Stelli's sleep isn't peaceful. She coughs in her sleep, and sometimes she groans. My sleep isn't peaceful. I dream of an all-consuming blackness that claws at me with its thick, heavy weight. I sleep though, and that's something. I need whatever strength I can find to gather resources tomorrow. 
———

The morning air is dead-cold. It bites into my arms and my legs and my chest and my throat. Still I force myself up anyways. I can't lose time. I spare a moment to curse the weather for being so cruel in our time of need. 

"How about Monan stays with Stelli and I get the food with Reean?" Kalkita plans. 

Everyone agrees. 

Kalkita and I go off and we hurry back with bread and beans. There was no kind old man at the cash register today. Just eyes that looked down on us disdainfully everywhere we turned. Still, with Kalkita at my side I was able to be strong. Especially thinking of all that was at stake. 

We give Stelli most of the food. She gingerly takes a bit of her bread, and scrunches her nose in distaste. We chide her gently to eat. She has to eat. Thankfully, finally she is able to force the bread down her dry throat. The worst part of being sick is that you lose your appetite, even if you don't lose your hunger. But thankfully she is able to eat. She finishes her food and Trayve smiles softly. Monan's eyes light up with a tiny bit of hope. 

"How is Stelli going to go out in this condition?" Monan asks. 

"She's not," Kalkita replies, "the rest of us are just going to have to try extra hard." There is determination set in her voice and also pragmatism. She believes we can do it. We all know that we have to do it. We're going to have to try extra hard. I hurry towards the streets.