I laid in the wet grass of the school yard as I was punched so hard my nose broke and blood filled my mouth, but I could could stare at the sky.
I was eight years old when that happened. My brother was being bullied, so I stepped in the way of him being punched. If I hadn't have been punched I wouldn't have looked at the sky that day and began to wonder how a bird could fly.
It became my greatest wonder. How did a bird fly?
I wasn't the type to be incredibly studious or even close to knowing how to crack a book and learn from it. I was just barely passing my high school classes, to be brutally honest.
So learning exactly how a bird had the guts and skill to fly through the air wasn't a simple task for me as it could be for some.
My brothers, all three of them, they were much easier to understand the birds or the sky. My brothers were simple. Feed them, make them laugh, give them good beds and let them have their share of girls to try and kiss or take to the cinema.
Men like us were simple creatures.
But as I stared with wide eyes, idling at the butcher in town. I was told to pass on a quote to Mr. Hoffman about selling beef to him.
But as I stood in the doorway of their little butcher shop, Mr. Hoffman was obviously not there.
Phoebe Hoffman was behind the counter, looking like she was nearly asleep, her head slumped over onto her shoulder as the golden yet red hair that was free from her braid was pressed against her cheek.
I never had seen a girl so pretty.
I didn't know what to say nor did I know if I should walk over. I was so tongue tied that you'd think I was retarded or was a mute.
But Phoebe noticed me and blinked a few times. She most not have processed who I was or looked very closely.
Phoebe spoke with a bland tone as she sat on her little wooden stool behind the counter.
"The shochet is out for the day. He will be back tomorrow morning. We only have salmon for fish until next week and we are out of chicken."
"My mother has a few chickens that like to try and chase me. I can sell them to you for free if you'd like."
I was such an idiot.
Phoebe took notice of me and shook her head, squeezing her eyes tightly closed then blinking a few times. "I'm so sorry. I thought you were Mr. Aberman again."
I shoved my hands in my pockets as I approached the counter while she tucked some of her red hair behind her ear.
"I'm supposed to tell your father a quote for beef."
She nodded and got up from her stool, exhaling long as moving towards a note pad and pen on the counter behind her.
"You must really love your mother if you won't quote the chickens too."
I smiled to myself as I rocked back on my heels, telling her the quote for the beef we were to sell to them soon.
I noticed in the glass pie pedestal ontop of the meat case was cookies. Gingersnaps. They looked fresh and warm by how the lid glass was fogging up.
"How much for a cookie?" I asked, digging around in my pocket for change as Phoebe turned around and was coming to stand near the cookies and meat case.
