27. Breadrolls

Thomas couldn’t keep his eyes off of the cross made up of plain oak wood that was planted into the ground, fresh dirt piled and showed that death could come at anytime, that thought alone; he fisted his blood laced handkerchief that was housed in his pocket, ignoring the goosebumps that painted his skin.

Being close to God had its ups and downs, not everyone could possibly understand and Thomas knew that everyone had their own beliefs, but… There were a few times he doubted God and had paid the price for it, though staring down to the fresh grave made those times zip past him.

“Did ya know the poor bastard?” A familiar voice drew Thomas from his thoughts, yanking him back down to earth and he huffed a sigh as he turned around to face Ruby.

Today, her hair was pulled back into a loose braid and her clothes the most modest Thomas had ever seen on her figure, surprising him, and she smiled knowingly before speaking.

“Just ‘cuz I’m some whore don’t mean I gotta dress like one Tom,” She sn