The Bread

Written by Sakina Gulani
Edited for FalWriting by Tabby Smith

Rami, stand in line for bread, my mother had instructed this morning.

No matter how long it takes, you don’t come back empty handed, she had added.

She didn’t have to yell to wake me up as I hadn’t been able to sleep anyway. The ground shook and walls vibrated, but I had to stay strong for my sisters, whom I was a father to now.

I had jumped over the pile of shoes and bags by the door - our non-negotiables, to make sure no one is ever left behind - and had made my way to the line.

There were many people, and not enough bread. Their clothes hung on their body, hiding the spots where fat had once resided. The lack of sleep and enormity of pain had hollowed out their eyes and minds. But they were patiently waiting in line, hoping to get something to feed their families before the bread ran out.

A ball of fire flew over our heads. Everyone crouched down and covered themselves, and then quickly stood up to see where it had hit. Some people shrieked and left the line, realising it was their home. They would fall and get back up running, like a child taking its first steps, as if the fear had blinded their eyes. I stayed put. I had promised my mother.

After four hours, I got two slices of bread. We would cut it into quarters, ration it to last two to three days. I needed to get water too, but it had been too long. I decided to check on my family.

I saw crowds of people surrounding the area. They might have hit our neighbours, so I went to see if I could help in any way.

As I got closer, some people ran towards me and grabbed on to me. Rami, wait, don’t go. Rami, you’re strong, stay strong. I pushed through; why were they saying so?

The heat of the flames encompassed me, the stench of blood and flesh drowned me, and the bread fell, landing in the rubble as I stared at the ruins of my home.