Edwin's legs were stiff. He looked out the window at the city's many streets, lined with shops, every single one of them, and he just checked his weird creation once more.
Sure, he had jam, but he had wanted to try something else. An almost forgotten bag with almonds, bought when the doctors had told him he should cut down on the meat, had been pilfered, mixed with bread, water, ginger, and a peach from the food forest, as Edwin called his secret garden, and was slowly cooking.
With no sugar because he would be damned before he forked over that much money just to satisfy his sweet tooth.
His thoughts went to the homeless man, who had taken a moldy loaf of bread, and done that with little to no fuss. That image had prompted Edwin into making sure that his bread bun, bought before he had realized that he might need to make his last paycheck stretch two months, and not just one, was a bit old.
He knew that not even the toaster could salvage that bread. As he was cutting it, he could not help but think that he could have built a house out of it, with the slices acting as bricks.
But he had placed the baking paper in his pan, then the bread slices on top, followed by some almonds, at least two fistfuls, the cut-up peach, and finally, the lemon juice and the ginger.
And now, he just hoped that he would not spend the rest of the day scrapping his creation off the pan. He was pretty sure that if he ended up clogging the sink, his roommates would demand he forked over the money to get it unclogged.
Which was something he would have done as well, to be honest. So, he stood in his kitchen, and watched the food like a hawk.
The scent of his creation was pleasant enough, and Edwin had hope.
He waited, got bored, and then decided to just clean his room. Shelves were wiped clean, the vacuum machine did its thing, the dirty laundry found a temporary home in the washing machine, and Edwin went back to his creation.
Only to find that it looked like cake, and not like jam.
"Hm, doesn't look burned, and the fruit seem to have softened up," Edwin thought to himself, and then shrugged. Well, nothing a bit of water could not fix. He picked up his bowl, filled it up with water, and then dumped the water on his creation.
For good measure, he picked up a fork, and then mashed everything up. Which answered his question if he could have bread chips this way.
In a negative way.
Still, he lowered the temperature of the oven, and placed the jam back inside.
With nothing else to do, he went in the bathroom, and took a shower. It was hot anyway, and he had been sweating from all pores ever since he got down with the virus.
In fresh clothes, he felt like another person. The apartment smelled of peach jam and ginger. He smiled, thinking he might manage to satisfy his sweet tooth that way, but then he was faced with a dilemma.
Yes, now he had time. But as soon as he started to go to work again, could he really afford to waste his free time on cooking?
He sighed, and then got down to thinking things through.
He had plenty left of the rice, but no milk. Still… what if he put some extra water in the rice, and dumped some jam inside?
With a smile, he went about to battle with the mountain of dishes in the sink. Hoping beyond hope that it won't get clogged from all that rice, which he had forgotten to scrape off the pans with kitchen paper beforehand.
Wash, clean up the sink, wash, clean up the sink.
It was relaxing, in a way. He did not have to think about people who had nothing to eat, while he himself was trying to scrape by, did he?
As soon as he caught himself thinking such a thing, his cheeks colored in shame.
No, there was something he could do, but history was full of examples of a runesmith or two screwing things up for the entire world.
Like that one, who figured out how to make gold out of clay, and ended up ruining the world economy, as soon as he started sharing the rune with his friends.
Or that one who figured out how to make runes into a tool for manufacturing, which had ended with him being stoned to death, for his actions had led to millions of people ending up unable to put bread on their table.
Or that sick bastard, who…
Edwin shook his head. No, he did not want to think about that. And it might soon be banned, anyway. After all, making it so that dogs could talk in a farm where they were raised to be slaughtered was simply inhumane.
Or maybe the farm alone was inhumane? And if it was inhumane to eat dogs, why was it ok to eat a chicken or a pig?
Edwin tried to think about what he would have done if a chicken was begging in a video to the farmer who had raised it, not to cut off its head, and he shook his head.
Been there, done that.
His attempt to become vegan had nearly killed him, made him cranky like a wasp's nest, and might have been the reason why he was getting so sick these days.
It was not fair, but Edwin had to think about his health.
The blue-eyed runesmith blinked, as he looked around. He could have sworn that he heard laughter from somewhere, but he was not sure.
Chalking it down to the noisy neighbors from upstairs being home, he just went back to mind his jam… thing.
0000
Edwin felt full and satisfied. The jam had ended up like something between jam and peanut butter, but tasted better than peanut butter because it was made with almonds.
The runesmith looked outside once more. It was cloudy, so he was pretty sure it would not be blazing hot. Such a good weather was perfect for a walk in the park.
But if he went to the park, got thirsty, and then got himself a bottle of mineral water, he would be 2 gold coins poorer.
"Soon, they will make us pay for the air too," he murmured under his nose, as he relaxed in his chair. People watching from so high up was pretty much limited to him having a staring contest with the elderly lady from the apartment building on the other side.
The problem with that was, that as soon as she caught him staring, she would just go back inside her apartment.
Just like she had done five minutes ago.
"Hm… I could…" he was starting to talk to himself more and more often, which he knew was not a good sign, but what could he do?
All the watering holes where he could meet new people were now outside of his price range. Heck, even a juice for 3 gold coins was outside of his budged.
He looked outside the window once more, wondering if the old lady won't come back out, and then looked at his barely eaten dessert.
That rice with almond/peach butter and egg was tasty. But the problem was that he was eating just rice these days, and that was already filling on its own.
With the added energy bomb from the almonds and the fruit, he was pretty sure that he was eating too much. And yet, he did not care.
Edwin stood up, not knowing why. He went through the motions of getting dressed for a walk, even managed to tie his shoes in the haze he was in.
Only for his hand to hover over the doorknob.
If he went outside, he would surely have to spend money. Not on public transport, he had bought a one-year travel pass. But surely, he would walk by something that smelled heavenly. There was this bakery where they sold bags of cookies for cheap. Surely, he could…
Edwin slapped himself across the cheek, and then took a deep breath.
No! He could go outside, and not spend even a copper coin! The only thing he needed for a walk was good weather and a pair of legs!
With that conviction in mind, Edwin unlocked the door, blinked when he saw that he had somehow gotten down to preparing the trash bag to be taken out, and just stepped out of his apartment.
Ready to test his self-restrain.
0000
His legs took him through streets which he had never taken before. He wanted to get lost, and to just do some people watching. It was not like he had forgotten to take his phone. If he needed to, he could just find where he was, and then find the way home.
He walked, noted how the fruit trees were heavy with fruit, how people were just walking over perfectly good food.
Why?
Did the homeless people not see the trees? Why would they be willing to take fruit from the charity drop-off location, but not pick a bag or two of the perfectly edible fruit trees, for which this city was known for?
It made no sense. Edwin picked a plum from a tree, not thinking much about it, and rubbed it clean on his T-shirt. It was sweet. Why should it be destined to be stepped on? Sure, the birds of the city fed on the fruit, but there were not enough of them to eat it all, before it went to waste.
"Pfft," Edwin heard, and he looked around. A group of teenagers were looking at him and laughing their asses off.
The strange thing about it all was that it was obvious that their clothes were not new and had never been pricey to begin with.
Why, Edwin asked himself, as he picked a couple of more plums to eat while he walked, would these children laugh at him, when they were no better off than him?
With a calm pace, he walked off. It was not his place to chastise other people's children.
He did not know what made him turn his head back towards the fruit tree he had been picking plums from, but when he did, his blood boiled in his veins.
The very same kids were now kicking at the fallen fruit, stepping on it, and even breaking branches.
"The hell is wrong with you all!" Edwin could not help but yell, making his way back to the brats. "That is food, darn it!"
Maybe the boys would have tried to beat him up, had a policeman not passed by, and gripped his baton. The rascals scattered, and Edwin was left alone with the man who had probably saved him a beating.
"They…" Edwin began, but the policeman just shrugged.
"No one was eating from that tree, anyway," the man said, as he started to walk away. But Edwin was not ready to give up so easily.
"I was eating from it, the birds were eating from it, the homeless people…" Edwin began, only for the policeman to chuckle.
"The homeless?" he asked, as he turned fully towards Edwin. For some reason, his eyes seemed familiar to the brunette, but he could not remember from where. "I have never seen a homeless person eating from a fruit tree in this city. You must be new here. A word of advice if you would be so kind to allow me one. Keep your nose out of other people's business. Kids these days are like sharks, and judging by the clothes of these, you would have gotten a beating."
With that, the policeman just walked back to his car, and got in.
Edwin, fists balled at his sides, glared at the broken branches on the ground. Heavy with fruit. Destined for the trash containers.
The runesmith bit his bottom lip until it bled, all thought about a pleasant walk gone from his head.
He could not accept how the world worked. He refused to.
His arrow moved a whole centimeter in the wrong direction.
Orion drove off with a satisfied smile on his lips.