An Unfulfilled Dream

Sun was journeying towards the west. Evening shadows were deepening. Some were walking on the side walk. Kids played ball. Some ran and the others sat on the stairs of the apartment building. Sun’s dying rays reflected on the glass door of the building.

She stood behind it. One of her hands held the leash. They other closed the mail box. No letter. No cards. The film of tears in the eyes. Eyebrow frowned. Jaw clenched. She looked at her feet. A brown colored animal with big eyes looked at her. It’s eyes had forever held the look of bewilderment. “Let’s go,” she said.

“Who hit him,” her voice rang as loud as it once did in a class room. The white in her hairs contrasted the red of her face. Everyone stopped. Some shook their heads. Some walked on. Others watched brazenly from the window. It was not the first time. She picked up the small creature and gently touched it’s black nose. “I’ll complain to your parents.”

Clock struck eight. Silence enveloped the surrounding. Only the clutter of utensils sounding. “She came again,” it was the mother. “No wonder no one talks to her, she blamed my son for hitting her dog.” The man nodded. T.v in the background. Mother asked kids to turn the volume down.

The clock struck ten. She looked out the window. Room was enveloped in the sound of silence. On the back wall their was an old movie poster. She lit up a cigarette. A tune slipped her lips. An old memory resurfaced. You can’t sing. Pick up a respectable job.

The clock struck two. Her eyes closed slightly. A black nose rested on her arm. She breathed slowly. Her lips held on to the tune. Her eyes formed the same dream. A mike. People clap. Curtain falls.


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