Streetlight

2

Tired eyes looking at the small screen of her portable computer, and fast tapping on the keyboard, as swift hand movements are clicking a different quantity of buttons. Some occasional brushing on the plastic casing of the electronic device, always followed by a deeper click.

A stronger gust of wind comes by. Iris tries to resist it, but her body clearly tells her otherwise, and she begins to shiver a bit, stopping her hands from moving as well. She is frozen. It's more of her instincts taking act, but she can't move. Her white sweater and light blue jeans are making the chilling air bearable, but Iris has always been pretty sensitive to cold.

Ugh, this is terrible.

It's normal again. The wind has just stopped. Iris decides to take the occasion to have a short break from her boring, annoying tasks given from her job. Working in an office could be exhausting, but the income was good enough.

Her head slowly lifted, her eyelids half open. Iris looked around.

It's just a bright, clear sunny day and the blue in the sky is as intense as it could have ever been.

Weirdly enough, her gaze falls on the streetlight right above her, above the wooden bench she is sitting on. The streetlight was... flickering? It's for just a few moments, but it goes off again not much longer after looking at it. The old, rusty thing, it probably has a few broken sensors. Nevermind that.

As soon as Iris begins giving more attention to her surroundings, she notices the chirping of all the barely visible birds staying between the branches, the leaves, and the growing flowers. Their singing is as cheerful as the laughter of the children playing in the distance.

One of them being Weasley, her son.

Her little bundle of joy, one of her reasons to be happy. His innocence always calmed Iris down. Weasley made everything worth it. His cute little smile, the way he reached out and gripped on her arms when scared, or shy, how innocently he thought of people. Weasley is someone that Iris wants to protect through her whole life, despite any age he would have.

Oh, Iris can't help but smile, thinking about her most precious, again. Just by thinking of being there for her son, Iris gains her composure again, ready to take on every challenge!...

... And about that, she realizes she still has much work left, since many of the tasks were just piles of unfinished, postponed work, and the due date is approaching. Iris' state of calmness starts to suddenly fade away as she takes her laptop again, and shuffles through the papers next to her. Time to work, with eyes fixed on the bright screen, endless tapping, and many hours of stress.

Then, suddenly, a weird sounding thump and voices stopping in their talk, followed by crying, makes Iris turn around immediately.

Weasley is on the ground, but he lifts his torso up, his right hand covering a part of his left arm. His brown hair, and actually his whole body is somewhat dirty from playing so much. The dirt is visible especially on his vastly colored clothes.

Iris has a worried expression on her face. She's almost frozen, but she manages to call out:

"Oh god, Weasley! Come here!"

Her son looks back at her, with miserable eyes. He nods, and he tries his best to get up, succeeding. He's now running to her mother, who was looking at him the whole time. The parents who are there in the playground watching over their children gave Iris a bit of a weird look, but it wasn't that noticeable.

Iris turns her body towards the direction his son was coming from.
As Weasley comes closer, Iris notices the sobbingand the small tears prickling the corner of his son's eyes. God, it must have hurt.

With a simpathetic look on her face, Iris gently brings Weasley in front of her as soon as he gets within reach, and she stuffs her hand in her own bag. Shuffling objects inside of the bag leads her to find what she was looking for: cotton pads, rubbing alcohol and a little plaster. She takes them one at a time

Iris takes the cotton pad and opens the bottle of rubbing alcohol, making sure the pad is fixed on the top of the bottle. She then flips the bottle for a second and flips it back, closes the bottle and puts it away.

Now the cotton pad is soaked. Iris looks back at her son and sighs, with a worried look.

"This is gonna sting a bit. Just hold back, it's for your own good."
Weasley has been looking away ever since he was dragged in front of her mother. He's most probably embarassed for getting a cut he could have avoided if he were more careful, but he still manages to reply
"... O-okay. And sorry..."
"You didn't do anything wrong, it was just a mistake, it happens, and you now know it. I'll use this now, be ready."
Weasley sighs, he seems to have calmed down, but he is still looking away, probably because he knows it's going to hurt a bit.

Iris goes on and puts the pad on the cut of Weasley's arm, rubbing it. He flinches, and it's especially noticeable through his expression.

"It's ok, you're doing great. Hold on a bit more."

After passing with the pad again a few more times, she clumps it and throws it in the near trash can. She then turns her head around to Weasley and gives him a kind smile, head tilted a bit to the side.

"Oh, it's done, dear. You were so strong at keeping back the pain, see?"

Iris now puts her head back up and holds Weasley's face with both her hands, while also doing fish lips.

"Who's my little knight?"
Weasley is now looking at his mother's face. Then, smiling again, Iris just adds "You are!"
And then she giggled.

Weasley is smiling now, his eyes seem to sparkle.

"We just need to put the plaster and you're good to go to play again."
"... Thanks mom!"
"Oh, no problem dear! No need to thank me."

Iris takes the plaster and opens it. Making sure it's being put on the right spot, she follows the plaster with her head. It's a success.

Iris smiles, again, and pats Weasley's head.

"It's all done now. You can go. Have fun!"
Weasley in response only shows a joyful expression and runs away to where he was at first.

Iris was staring the whole time to make sure her son got to the playground again. She watches from afar, at her energetic and playful son, so full of life, so full of happiness, a contagious, overflowing youth that could bring anyone to become a child again.

She can see the other children and their parents standing beside them, while she is there on a bench, working.

... Right, she has to go back to her mindless digital work. Iris looks to the side on the bench where her computer is, stares at it for a few seconds, and picks it up.

It's still day, so the artificial light doesn't really surprise her, intensity wise, but the screen is too pixelated for her taste. Nevertheless, she opens the portable computer and the first thing she sees is where she last left out.

Time to start.

And yet, despite the boredom and stress she is about to face, and especially, unlike before, she has a big, genuine smile on her face.

The old streetlight flickers again.