((This piece is the beginning of a series that will span a couple weeks.))

The noise, that’s what everyone always notices first. They pay no attention to the stalls, some draped with colorful cloths, others emitting aromas that entice the senses. It wasn’t the people, condensed together, shoulders rubbing. It wasn’t the hot daylight streaming through the always-flawless sky. It was the noise, fighting for attention, voices raising up, striving to be the loudest, the boldest, as if that guaranteed the best price or the greatest profit. So in this marketplace ringed with inns, contents were already spilling out into the streets. No one would notice a single boy dressed in beggar’s clothes.

His young, gaunt frame took up no space. His skin, dirty and raw, aided his black hair in hiding him in the shadows of the alleys and the streets. He was inconsequential and insignificant. Besides, there were plenty of beggars clogging the city. But what they didn’t realize was this boy, dressed in beggars clothing, had not come to beg. He had learned it didn’t earn you much, at most a quick kick in the ribs or an angry scowl. Most people these days didn’t have the coin to give a boy a chance. Now, with desperation on his side, the boy decided it was time to investigate other avenues of business. He was here to steal.