A Short Story: A Story?

I woke up that morning to the smell of freshly baked bread when the sun was just rising up from the horizon. The pale pink and orange sky brightened any remaining darkness of the cold starry night. Mama was humming a song that made me think of Charles and I running through the tall grass in the spring. Just like that day, everyday should be treasured because life should not be taken for granted. I got up from the bundle of blankets to where Mama was sitting, and sat beside her. “Are you going to Mr. Miller’s today?” She asked. Her gaze unwavering from the sunrise.
“Yeah, I should be back before noon.” I replied. I closed my eyes and focused on the sweet smell. Neither of us stirred until a rustle of blankets could be heard. Charles crawled over and sat down on the other side of Mama. Each morning started like this and it would continue to be that way until the days were cold because we aren 't together. I held Charles’ hand over to the bakery for work. On the way, I saw a new police officer, he was young and tanned by the blaring sun. Charles and I continued walking. Mr. Miller payed me hourly for work in the kitchen while he payed a few coins per day to Charles who cleaned the tables and bathrooms.
“Morning Poppy, Morning Charles.” Mr. Miller said as we walked through the door. “Morning.” We said in unison.
“Ready for work?” He asked opening the side door to the counter. “Sure am.” I smiled. I baked and decorated all day till the clock read one pm. I took off my