1 • Boy on a Bike

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❝ We might think we're nurturing our garden, but really it's our garden that's nurturing us.❞

-Jenny Uglow


✿ 


"We're getting old," your grandma sighs, referring to her prized sunflower outside the window, "I can tell the weather's wearing us both. Just look at the drooping petals." She tsks, clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

"You're both still beautiful, Grandma," you say as you drape a blanket over her shoulders.

"Oh, well," She laughs, her frail body shaking from the effort, "flattery will get you nowhere now-a-days."

Her laugh turns into a cough: rasping, jerking her body forward.

The sound makes your heart wrench.

You frown, grabbing your bag and the keys to the house, "Now remember, if something happens just call the neighbors. It will take ten minutes tops."

She smiles, the movement enhancing the wrinkles around her eyes. "Bye, Dear. Hurry back, and don't worry so much."

You wave to her, shutting the front door and locking it behind you.

How can I not worry?

There's something wrong with your grandma; you know there is, but she refuses to go to the doctor. She has sudden coughing fits and can't sleep at night, so she always stays by her chair at the window, dozing off whenever she's tired.

You love her with all your heart. She took care of you when your parents died, so you have to return the favor, even if it means missing school. 

You dropped out a few years ago, and have been studying by yourself for a long time. Multiple people, who you assume are child service agents of some sort, have visited the house. They always try to convince you to go back to school, but you ignore them and don't answer the door.

You hate leaving Grandma alone for even ten minutes to get groceries; you can't even imagine leaving for eight hours a day.

You sigh, pushing open the door to Sakanoshita. It's small and quaint little store, perfect for a quick in-and-out run.

There's no one in the store; just the same middle-aged man that runs the counter

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There's no one in the store; just the same middle-aged man that runs the counter. He's smoking, but always puts it out when you walk in. He gives you a small wave, smiling slightly.

He doesn't know you're a dropout, or that you're living alone with no one but your ill grandmother. However he does know that you're a minor and you never visit with any adult, and you're a very frequent customer, so he does give you a student discount (although you aren't one). 

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