I limped down the sidewalk of Tuttle Street. The rythmatic rolling of the beaten wheels on my shopping cart the only sound keeping me company, save the rubbing of the tattered cloth I was dressed in. Only a few people were out on the streete this early, or this late, however you look at it. It’s still 6 A.M.
I turned the corner onto Rogue St. and my cart dove in to a good-size ditch in the sidewalk. I pulled it out easily. I walked down Rogue St. for about 5 minutes until I turned the corner once more, finally arriving on Pinegrove Drive. Looming ahead of me was the regal Alabastar Bank, and my heart gave a little jump. I reached into the depthes of my shopping cart, and pulled it out. A black marble chest with golden trim and intricate carvings. With my package in hand, I walked up the steps.
BAM!
The man who had stood at the bank’s door kicked me down the stairs, right in my chest, and I coughed blood onto my trench coat.
“No room for scum here,” scowled the man.
I looked up at the man.
“What a pity.”