[img]https://clan.cloudflare.steamstatic.com/images//41041469/9e4566f13e1702ede591b0f5eb9fbda5279ed990.jpg[/img] Have a full view here: 📰 https://bit.ly/The_Toolbox “Madame! Get yours before it runs out! Oi, fresh news of the city!” Thomas’ fingers are numb with cold when the snow covers his shoulders. Wet splats of the icy rain mark his shoulder blades and chest - there are many papers yet to be given out, more shrill cries of his not to succumb to the icy weather. “Oi! Extra! Fresh from print! The Toolbox is here!” The advertorial issue is heavy in his hands, water bleeding through the paper and his well-worn mittens - Ma made them just for him, to shield him from the icy wind and biting frost. The full press package is carefully wrapped in blankets at Thomas’ side, shielded enough to peek through but away from the destruction of the elements - there’s a clever lever hidden inside that secures an issue to be blemish-free - and yet conveniently within reach for the customer. “Extra! The Fishermen refuse to budge, the fight for the oil refinery gets bitter after two weeks!“ It’s been hard to count years, days, and hours like the boss does, all awkward numbers and calendar lines, but Thomas is getting the hang of things. “Oil reserves doubled, spring ought to be safer!” His throat is raw with pain but he shouts, voice echoing down the alleyway. “Coal is not our only option today! Hear ye, hear ye!“ A weathered coalminer swaggers up to Thomas, his eyes briefly scanning the cover with its illustration. He narrows his brow at some of the letterings. “Sir! The chief scientist asks: Will it get warmer?” “Gimme two of these.” The man mutters, his voice low. “Sure thing!” Thomas beams, two neatly pieces of paper right away in his hand. The miner doesn’t look twice at him and goes away, already reading the key headlines. “Get the newest issue of The Toolbox!” It is a gloomy, Friday morn, and the young paperboys of the District awaken - but Thomas knows his street corner like the back of his hand, sinewy with carrying package of the papers after package, his body bent awkwardly in the heavy coat but he does have the best spot on the corner - shielded by a lonesome street lantern, further down the cobblestone path than back when he started, three Reindeer Mating Seasons ago. It gets easier over time, everything gets easier.