The men in purple come running. Their heads swivel about in search of movement. They spot her, squatting on the ground munching on her half eaten roll.
“You, thief. Stay where you are.” One of them points a finger at her.
She bolts into the crowd. There are crashes and shouts behind her. The men are yelling to one another, splitting up and trying to corall her into a corner.
A closed cart blocks her way forward. She rolls under and finds that behind the cart is a narrow alleyway that goes back about 4 feet before it hits a locked gate that opens to another street.
“Left! She ran left over by the pork merchant!” The voices are fading already.
She waits until the shouts fade altogether. The pink sunset fills the top of the walls of the alley. She closes her eyes, hoping that sleep will mask what remains of her hunger.
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