Ι had an interesting discussion the other day. It revolved around an issue which dwells in both negligence and anguish. I had to write a story about the feeling, not the event. I decided to use my favourite number of words: 121. This is how the story goes:
He was alone, thinking what they had presented as his many mistakes. “Is that true?” he wondered in anguish.
Raised alone, in the house of negligence, he’d rely on himself when in need of help. Looking for the answer in his many and sometimes challenging books.
When he went to uni as told, he’d look for the answer at the local roaring bars, every single night. She was nowhere.
– Don’t you care about your future?
~ It can wait.
– Why are you so cold?
~ May I go now?
He was on the front balcony, under the sun warming his thoughts. “My coffee!” he cried out. There, on the porch. He surrendered to its coolness. The answer can wait.
Have a creative week
A blogger friend, Joanna
Photo: Franck Michel