Broken

Dream

The boy was pure. He grew up on a farm, knowing nothing about a place where there were iron trees everywhere stuck straight into the sky, where people put a knife to others' back for money that they did't bothered to earn, where there were cars stuck in the roads because of other cars everyday.

He went to that place when he grew old enough to earn.

But then, who would remember a boy, with not astonishing face nor gifted talent, who grew up on a farm?

He worked hard. He worked hard at everything he did. He did his best.

It was just that his bests were not as good as other people's.

He had an dream. He was ambitious. He wanted to earn big money in rightful ways, and marry a nice wife, and have kids, and go live in the country. On his second thought, maybe he could be a gangster.

Neither of those had ever came true.

He met a girl, who was not a nice one but a kind one. The two of the words were slightly different to him: nice meant sweet, kind meant old-ish.

He and she dated. They worked plain jobs, the girl a bank clerk and the boy a company's officer. The boy wasn't extremely happy about his life so far; he thought it was because of the girl he was dating.

Stupid him.

But he soon realised that it wasn't her fault. Not at all hers but his. She forgave him; and yet, a nice girl wouldn't have. A nice girl would have cried and rejected. Instead of that, his ex-girlfriend silently moved into his house.

Still, there weren't big money in his life. Not yet.

He was trying out for drugs selling and alcohol. She stopped him from being in a street gang and being cool. He argued but obeyed, knowing that a kind girl's decisions would always be right.

The gang he was trying out for was collapsed three weeks after because of what they did. He considered himself lucky. She didn't say anything. They soon got married in a small church, the boys' parents first time in the city and the girl's parents excited and cried.

There weren't big money. No gangsters.

He had kids. A son first and then another, at last a girl. He considered himself lucky while she never complained about the pain.

She kept a diary since she was little. Everything was in it. Even the guesses of his ambitions were a part of it. A kind girl who was plain and who didn't talk much would be a good observer, and she saw everything but didn't comment. No-one asked, so no-one pretended and no-one lied.

She got her kidneys sick. The doctors said that they couldn't be fixed. She would leave soon. He didn't shout or throw anything at the white suit. The relationship between him and his wife were a steady but not strong one, unlike some others. The kids were calm, the manner from their mother.

She gave him her diary. He read it on her sick bed side. He cried over every little thoughts she had, the thoughts of a peaceful family living a plain life.

He then set out himself to live a double-nice plain life for her, and before he realised it, he already had.

With her help.

Sandy and Johnny.