“See here, little one, I’ve got some more bread for you. Don’t go away, I’ve got some more!” The old man broke off another small piece and dropped it into the water.
“Here’s some more. Oh, you sure act like you haven’t ever gotten bread before. But don’t worry, I’ve always got some for you. You wouldn’t want your children to starve now, would you?” One after the other, he broke off more pieces, slowly dropping the crumbs into the water.
“You over there, don’t swim away! Your mummy might lose you. She can’t be watching you all at the same time. And what about the food I’ve got here? Don’t you want anymore? Well, I suppose you must have had enough for a day, but I’ve still got one last bit.”
He broke the last piece in half and slowly dropped both of them into the water.
“You’ll get some more tomorrow. I know you’re still hungry, little one, but you’re always hungry, no matter how much bread I give you.”
Behind him the old man suddenly heard panting and a young boy shouting “grandpa!”
“Oh my dear boy, why are you running so?” he turned towards him, watching as he stopped to catch his breath.
“Grandpa, you can’t go running off like that every day! And mummy’s mad at you again now. You’ve taken the entire loaf of bread!”
“I was feeding the ducks, my little boy. I can’t let them starve,” he said, shaking his head sadly.
“Grandpa,” the boy said, searching his face. “There are no ducks here.”
© 2016
Sunday Photo Fiction, 31st January 2016
FELICIA HEILGENDORFF 
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