The wind howled like a wild animal, biting at exposed skin and seeping through the thin clothes they wore. It tore through the alleyways, snatching up bits of trash and swirling them through the air like mocking spirits. Anna's fingers were numb, red and raw, wrapped tightly around a bundle of crumpled roses that barely looked alive. Their once-vibrant petals were curled and bruised, clinging desperately to brittle stems. Calvin stood beside her on the street corner, shivering uncontrollably, clutching a stack of toilet paper rolls that were almost too heavy for his tiny arms. His fingers were swollen and stiff, little pink sausages poking through torn gloves with missing fingertips. They had no coats, no scarves, no gloves—just a pair of mismatched shoes between them and the freezing pavement, and the echo of the morning's threat ringing in their ears.
"Sell every last one," Nanny Elga had barked, slapping the roses and rolls into their hands like punishment. "If you come back with anything left, no food for two days. And don't even think about running. I will find you."
Anna believed her. She'd seen what happened when other children tried to run. Where did they go? Some came back bruised and broken. Some never came back at all. No one ever asked questions. No one came looking.
The streets were crowded, but no one really saw them. Just two pale, shivering children standing in the cold like forgotten ghosts. The world moved around them—boots splashing through puddles, wheels of strollers rattling by, people hunched into thick coats, faces buried in scarves. Some looked away, uncomfortable. Others hurried past as if Anna and Calvin were invisible.
"Roses... please," Anna whispered to a couple walking by, her voice so soft it nearly vanished in the wind. "Only one dollar..."
The woman flinched and turned her head. The man looked straight through Anna like she wasn't there. They disappeared into the crowd, leaving nothing but the scent of expensive cologne and the echo of footsteps.
Calvin coughed—a deep, dry sound that made Anna's heart twist and her stomach clench. She dropped to her knees beside him, careful not to crush the roses.
"You okay?" she asked, brushing the hair from his damp forehead.
"I'm cold," he said, his voice shaking, tears welling in his eyes. "I want to go home."
Home. The word hit her like a slap.
She swallowed hard, forcing down the ache in her throat. "I know. Just a few more, okay? We can't go back with full hands."
Calvin didn't argue. He never did. He just nodded and wiped his nose with his sleeve, then adjusted the stack of toilet paper in his arms and turned his eyes to the crowd again.
A man in a business suit stopped in front of them, raising an eyebrow. He had expensive shoes, the kind that clicked confidently against the pavement. "Where are your parents?"
Anna froze. Her mouth went dry. "At home," she said quickly, forcing a smile that felt like it might crack her face. "We're helping them out. Just trying to make a little money."
The man stared at them a moment longer, his lips twitching as if he didn't quite believe her. Then he shook his head and walked away without another word.
Calvin looked up at her with wide eyes. "Why are we lying?"
Anna pulled him closer, her lips near his ear. "Because if they find out the truth, we'll be taken back," she whispered. "And I don't want you hurt again."
He didn't ask any more questions.
The hours crept by. One rose, then two. Then a third to an old woman who muttered something about poor children before vanishing into a bakery. Calvin managed to sell one pack of toilet paper to a woman with kind eyes who gave him a pitying look and slipped a wrapped sandwich into his coat pocket. He wasn't allowed to eat it—not yet. If Nanny Elga saw food, she'd demand to know where it came from. And if the answer wasn't pleasing, there would be consequences.
Their toes went numb. Their lips cracked. The bundle of roses grew lighter, but the world seemed heavier with each minute. Anna's legs ached from standing. Calvin leaned on her more and more until she was half-carrying him.
She glanced at the sky. The sun was sinking, its orange light bleeding behind the rooftops. Night was coming. And with it, the cold would deepen, sharpening into a merciless blade.
"We'll go soon," she whispered to Calvin. "Just a little longer."
Her voice wavered. She wasn't sure how much more he could take. Or how much more she could.
A boy their age passed by, holding his mother's hand, laughing about something Anna couldn't hear. He had a blue wool coat and a beanie with a pom-pom on top. He looked at Calvin and Anna for a second, curious, but his mother tugged him along before he could say anything.
Jealousy burned in Anna's chest, then guilt. She didn't want to feel that way. It wasn't the boy's fault. But oh, how she wished Calvin could be that child, bundled up, cared for, safe.
A police car rolled by. Anna turned her face away instinctively, pulling Calvin behind her. If they were noticed, questions would follow. And if those questions led to Nanny Elga, there would be hell to pay. The car passed without stopping.
Calvin sniffled and leaned his head against her side. "Anna?"
"Yeah?"
"My feet hurt."
"I know, little bear. Mine too."
He was quiet for a long time, his breath shallow and wheezy.
Then, softly: "Do you think Mom and Dad miss us?"
The question hit her like a punch to the gut.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "But I miss them."
Silence again. She wasn't sure if Calvin was thinking or simply too tired to respond.
The streetlamps flickered on. People hurried home, faster now, more focused on warmth than anything else. The crowd thinned. The wind picked up. Snow threatened at the edges of the sky.
Anna counted her roses. Two left. Just two. She held them up with trembling fingers, her voice breaking.
"Please… Roses…"
No one stopped.
A man dropped a quarter into her hand without looking.
She stared at it. It wasn't even enough for bread.
Her body ached. Her fingers burned from the cold. Her lips were chapped and bleeding. Calvin was too quiet beside her. She turned to check on him and saw that he'd fallen asleep on his feet, leaning heavily against the lamppost, his head drooping.
Panic flared in her chest.
"Calvin!" she whispered, shaking him. "Stay awake, okay? Please, you have to stay awake!"
His eyes fluttered open. He gave her a weak smile. "I'm just tired."
"I know. We'll go soon. I promise."
She wasn't sure if it was a lie.
Anna clutched her little brother's hand and held him close, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. She looked down at the roses—wilted and ugly now—and then up at the indifferent world.
"I swear," she whispered, more to herself than to him, "One day, we'll be warm. One day, we'll never have to beg again."
Calvin didn't reply.
He just leaned into her, small and quiet, and closed his eyes. Too tired to cry. Too tired to dream.
She didn't blame him. The night had teeth. And all she could do was hold him tight and pray the morning would come.