The home filled with a high-pitched scream as steam shot out of the kettle perched atop a rusted wire frame; a familiar sound in the Vingerfeld household. As Gillezeau poured the bubbling water over a pile of cold tea leaves, he watched the town wake up outside his window. The jingle of a small bell rang as the shop keeper across the way opened his door for the day, propping it open to let the cool sea air draw in the scent of freshly baked pastries from the bakery adjacent. Gillezeau took a sip from his cup and drew in a deep breath, fully embracing the complex aromas within; it was a special blend made with a particularly for him- a mix he liked dearly.
A knock at the door broke the calmness of the rising sun. “Good morning, Mr. Vingerfeld, is Stephane available?”
Gillezeau turned to shout up the stairwell. Stephane didn’t even wait for his father to finish the sentence before he barreled down the stairwell and out the door. He already knew what his friend wanted to do- ride their horses until the sun set behind the mountain across the inlet.
The two boys chased after one another as they stumbled through the town square, kicking at the weeds in the ground and belting pleasantries at the people they sprinted by. They ran up the front stairs of the bakery and greeted the man behind the counter. “Well isn’t it just wonderful to see you two this morning! What can I get you two this fine morning?” He asked rhetorically as he produced two muffins and accompanying cups of water. “I made these especially for you, blueberry citrus. I picked the berries myself this morning.”
They picked up the muffins and cups, stuffing their faces. They incoherently thanked the man and turned to run out the door. As they continued down the road towards the stables Stephane stopped and picked up a rock. “What did you find there?” His friend asked. Stephane didn’t respond, he slowly turned towards the water and threw it in. The rock made as disappointingly small splash. He turned back towards the stables and slapped his friend on the arm. “You’re it!” Stephane yelled, as he took off down the road. When they got the building, they could hear their horses waking up. Grabbing his saddle Stephane went to greet his trusty four-legged friend. “Good morning, Cherro.” The horse exhaled and drooled a bit in acknowledgement. Stephane tossed the saddle over the horses back and reached for the leather straps, tying them neatly together, just as his father had taught him years before. The two boys climbed up onto their steads and rode out of the yard towards a meadow on the edge of town. They let their horses graze for a few minutes as they chatted about where they were going to ride that day. Shortly after, they began riding out of sight of the town, towards a small stream. Stephane shouted to his friend as they rode, “let’s catch fish for lunch!” His friend laughed, knowing they never were successful in their mealtime endeavors.