It rained that day, and nobody ever knew it was him. How could they? Hardly any of them knew he even existed. Nobody ever wants to notice the sad things in life; they don’t like feeling bad. Unfortunately, he was one of the sad things, so he was never noticed. On occasion, his cultural invisibility lent him an advantage, but for the most part, being a magic-wielding homeless thirteen-year-old was not a fun thing to be. Oliver was tired of the choking black air in the industrial city of London, so he condensed the clouds with great effort, and sure enough, rain followed soon after.
Today, Oliver decided he would have to get some food again. He spent all his coin on his last grocery trip, so this time, he’s have to pilfer a few cents here and there. Oliver strode through the familiar streets of London happily; he couldn’t wait to get one of those cherry pastries taunting him from the bakery windows. Of course, he needed to get some essentials, too, but he was already salivating at the thought of digging in to that sweet cherry filling. Lost in his daydream, a passing cart swerved out of the way, narrowly avoiding crushing Oliver. The driver of the carriage screamed red-faced obscenities at him as he whipped his carriage down the crowded street. Startled out of his reverie, Oliver began to assess his surroundings, scouting for a good target. Flocks of ladies in colorful dresses fluttered down the mucky street, all in a hurry to get to their destinations. Packs of gentlemen swaggered confidently through the sidewalk traffic, metal-tipped canes rapping sharply against the brick pavement to offset their every step.
One group of gents in particular seemed especially wealthy. With new velvet bowler hats, spotless shoes, perfectly preserved crisp clothes, and unwrinkled jackets, they practically reeked of the upper class. Or perhaps, Oliver thought to himself, that was just their expensive cologne.
