kiwi

Amidst concrete, smoke, and metallic sounds she couldn't yet decipher, something pierced the city's chaos and forced her to stop. It wasn't danger. It wasn't fire. It wasn't blood. It was food. She turned her head slowly, like an animal following an invisible current. Her bare feet moved cautiously across the pavement, dodging shadows, dodging people who didn't even notice her. There it was. Sitting. Still. Carefree, with a hypnotic, unique aroma that drew her in. It was pizza, but she didn't know that.

In her hands she held something wrapped in paper. When she opened it, steam escaped into the cold air. She tensed. Not from fear… from hunger.

She took a step closer. Then another. She didn't understand the words he was muttering as he checked his phone. She didn't understand the shiny object he held in his other hand. But she understood the simple gesture of bringing food to his mouth. Her stomach reacted before her mind. She stopped a few feet away. She observed. She analyzed. He wasn't showing his teeth. He wasn't protecting the food with his body. There was no aggression in his posture. That was important. She leaned slightly forward, brazenly inhaling the aroma, without shame. Her fingers moved clumsily, as if hesitating between advancing or fleeing. Her gaze—lost, almost childlike—fixed on the piece of bread he was now holding, half-finished. She took another step. She was too close now. His shadow fell upon him. And without asking permission, without understanding rules or norms, she reached out and touched the warm paper. Not to snatch. Just to feel. Her eyes slowly rose to meet his. Silence. The modern world continued moving around, indifferent. But for her, that moment was everything.

Will he scare her away? Will he yell at her? Will he share?