A young fellow, skinny with wide eyes and a scared look on his face looking up at the store sign.
What does it say? Blurred letters in a way that don't make sense.
I know now that the sign says DONNER'S BAKERY, but looking back in my memory at the sign I can't read the words through his eyes.
None of the signs make sense. I think that fellow with the scared look on his face is me.
Bright neon lights. Christmas trees and sidewalk peddlers. People bundled in coats with collars up and scarves around their necks.
But he has no gloves. His hands are cold and he puts down a heavy bundle of brown paper bags.
He's stopping to watch the little mechanical toys that the peddler winds up—the tumbling bear, the dog jumping, the seal spinning a ball on its nose.
Tumbling, jumping, spinning. If he had all those toys for himself he would be the happiest person in the world.
He wants to ask the red-faced peddler, with his fingers sticking through the brown cotton gloves,
if he can hold the tumbling bear for a minute, but he is afraid.
He picks up the bundle of paper bags and puts it on his shoulder.
He is skinny but he is strong from many years of hard work.
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