In the depths of winter, little sparrows lined up on the bare branches, preening their feathers. One spread its wings and flew down to the ground, hopping through the snow in search of any food it might find.
One Hand scattered some breadcrumbs, and many sparrows gathered around. The bakery boss, wearing a cotton cap and an apron, straightened up and brushed the remaining crumbs from his hands.
With a squeak, the sound of bicycle brakes came from nearby. The bundled-up newsboy took off his gloves and tapped the bicycle bell with his fingers.
The bakery boss, wearing thick cotton boots, stepped through the snow, startling the sparrows that had just landed into flight. He strode across the sidewalk to the roadside and took the newspaper from the newsboy's hand.
"It's you again, you clever little rascal! You must know the gentlemen around here are the easiest to talk to. You always manage to snatch this route."
The newsboy was a freckle-faced little boy. Like most children in Gotham, he was lively, wild, and full of rebellion.
The children darted through Gotham's streets and alleys, unafraid of wind, frost, rain, or snow, always brimming with energy. Like sparrows crossing winter streets in search of food, they were the most vibrant sight in Gotham, that city of sin.
The bakery boss shoved a small piece of dark bread into the newsboy's hand and asked, "Any rumors lately?"
The newsboy took a bite of the bread and hissed from the heat. While sucking in air through his mouth, he said in fits and starts, "Things are looking pretty good."
"I heard that charity dinner in Metropolis went very well. Those rich old tycoons donated quite a lot of money to deal with the traffic problems caused by the snowstorm."
"I heard our