A Memory of Water

The water was freezing. Jazbet paid it no mind. The well off to do in Doolin, with a cruel streak, used to throw wrapped bread into the freezing canals for the urchins to fight over. He swam as hard as he could, with no skill or rhythm, splashing madly against the icy waves. As the wrapped bread floated ahead he beat on against the current
An elbow crashed into his face and he hears another boy laughing, “Try again little rat!” Was the last thing he heard before his head went under. The dark depths of the winter water felt like a thousand glass daggers stabbing into him at once, but it was the bitter taste of failure, another day of hunger that would sour this further