The Gate

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The Morning Call

The road out of town began as a rumor and ended, Elias would later think, as a promise. That morning it was only mud, and the sound of his mother calling him back from the gate.

“You’ll catch cold,” she said, though they both knew it was not the cold she feared.

The Baker’s Cart

Old Mendel’s cart rattled past before the sun had cleared the rooftops, loaded with bread still warm under its cloths. Elias walked beside it a while, saying nothing, memorizing the smell.

What He Carried

A satchel, two books, a knife he had never used. Everything else, he decided, he would have to become.