The Job
He looked at the skyline
wistfully. Hazel coloured clouds were floating listlessly. For years he had tried to
find a place for himself in this city where everyone and everything seemed to be made of bricks and mortar. But his efforts had only left a scar on his spirit.
His hand had, almost of
its own will, touched his cheek. It hurt. The troubled hand went limp.
He cursed himself for again letting his hand go free; this hand had been
the cause of all his miseries.
He was so lost in his
thoughts that he did not notice the little boy who was giving him furtive glances.
He was shocked to see that the boy had, like him, a small scar on his cheek.
‘He almost looks like me?
Why? How he pouts at me; what insolent fellow he is; he thinks he softens
my heart. But he can’t,’ he gave the boy a tight and
angry look. The boy just broke into pieces and melted in thin air. He knew he had been imagining things for past few months.
‘I wish he would stop haunting
me?’
He felt the knife in his
pocket and let out a sigh. The job had to be done by seven and it was already
past eight. He got up and looked at the skyline wistfully.
*******
Word prompts-hazel,
months, scar, pouts, small, spirit, limp, tight, glances, softens, letting.
Flash Fiction forAspiring Writers on a photo prompt.
