It was just an ordinary day, the sun hung lazily in the sky. Arkai, a young boy at eleven approached his home after a long day from his school. However, as he neared step by step to the door, he realised that—the door was locked from the inside. His keys were inside, mocking him through the glass pane of the windows.
Undeterred, he glanced to his left; no solution just a bush, glanced to his right; just a cat passing by meow, upward-downward, forward and behind hoping for a miraculous solution to present itself but soon with a resigned shrug, he decided to take matters into his own hands since a miracle won't nose in to his matters. He looked at his bicycle nearby, the tension between the cycle and his eyes rose. He figured a bit of aimless pedalling might clear his mind and perhaps lead him to a solution. His backpack, who has always been a devilish companion who he absolutely hates, always filled with textbooks and homework, was still too precious to be just left behind at the door. He kept his bag hung securely onto his shoulders, besides his schoolworks, it had a few personal treasures—a family photo, a worn-out bookmark from his mother, and uhh a half-eaten snack from his school. These items, while seemingly mundane, had held deep sentimental value for him; a half-eaten snack could rescue him if he ever felt hungry.
He sat on his bicycle, he pushed off, the rhythmic sound of the rubber tires that hummed against the asphalt with the chains gleezing grinding and clicking sound providing a soothing backdrop to his thoughts. As he rode, he couldn't help but glance at the houses he passed, thinking each one could somehow hold a potential solution to his problem.
YOU ARE READING
That girl on the window sill
Short StoryLost the keys, but I had a cycle. Perched on the window there was a girl on the window emersed reading her book. Indeed, this person is not just a stranger to me.
