The walls felt thin on cold nights like this.

Penny could feel the curl of the chilled air slither around her chest, despite the piles of blankets she had snuck out from the linen closet. It had to be early morning- too early to get up, but late enough for the light to peek out from the eastern horizon and seep brighter colors into the dark spring sky. She wasn't prepared to get up just yet, but it was inevitable. Day was coming. Morning brought busy chores and people to attend to.

And she could hear the whispers.

One voice, soft and charming. It lilted slightly, with intentions of staying quiet but not being able to. The vowels were almost inaudible, but the consonants pierced the air; it was enough that Penny could make out the odd words from the mumbling, and the shivered worry from the concern.

The other was masculine. Big, strong, and slowly balding. This one didn't bother to keep its volume low, despite the incessant shushes from its significant other. Don't wake up the house? It guffawed, incredulous to the mere simplicity of the words. What good would it be to hide it from them? They both know; it would be more surprising if they didn't! Why should we keep them from worrying about the inevitable?

The inevitable. Disgust pooled into Penny's stomach at that word. She couldn't help the things that were destined to happen, but she didn't like the helplessness that came along with it.

The soft voice sighed, and it leaked through the walls and clung to Penny's chest. She never wanted to listen to these voices, and had never intended to eavesdrop in the first place. The words stung. They thrashed at the false pretense of peace that her family had taken lengths to create. She wanted to pretend that everything would be okay, and that she could live her normal life as a baker's daughter without any harsh interference.

Change was coming. It was inevitable.

And yet Penny didn't want it.

The creditors had been floating around for some time now. It wasn't that her family owed money, per say, but apparently there was no proof of purchase for their little bakery in Pares' market square. Their family had taken to baking bread generations ago, back when her great-great-grandfather drifted through the hills searching for his fortune. He had built the house himself, and oversaw the installation of the stoves. It may have been his plot of land, but without the right documentation...

It was safe to say that they'd be run out of their home. Her parents had been secretive about it, but that didn't mean that she didn't catch the signs. The worried shake to her mother's hand; the deepening crease in her father's brow. Her grandmother's oblivion. Penny appreciated that the old woman could feign ignorance, but being kept out of the loop- free from the responsibility- still hurt. Adding to the absence of her brother, who had left to serve his term in the military years ago, the weight on the family of Weisse bakers' shoulders was pushing them down into the muck, face first.

The whispering stopped. Penny sat up on her elbows, straining to listen then wondering why she wanted to. There was a shuffle of thick boots on musty floorboards, a pressure that probably stirred the dust up to the ceiling. Penny cringed. She would have to sweep that up later; but was it worth it? They'd probably have to vacate the house next week--

No. She couldn't be pessimistic about this. Penny had to believe that everything would be alright.

Another slam, followed by the consistent stomps of feet traveling downstairs. Her father was about to start his shift in the bakery. At the cue of her mother's smaller steps following close behind, Penny decided that sleep had escaped her. She rolled out of her blankets, the sharp chill seeking out her exposed skin, and tried to focus on things other than their family crisis. It was time to work.

That was all she could do.