You'd been stealing bread, bringing it back to your mother, but you were too young to notice that she wasn't there, as in dead. You show up to the house everyday, setting down water with food, next to the countless loafs, some even molding.

Price watched you carefully as he saw you in a local store. You sneakily hide a small loaf in your sweater and try to make it out of the doors before a strong hand grabs your hoodie.

"Why're you stealin, kid?"

Price said in a firm voice.