Story of a Boy

September 10, 2011
By Anonymous

A plank bed stuck inside of the house following a window sticking out of the house. Enough room for a single person to lay a sheet and pillow and call it a bed. I laid there, every evening waiting for my father to return home from work; or at least what he had left of his work. Seeing him walking up from the sidewalk, u could tell he used to be a business man. I ran to the front door, meeting my father in hope to hear of any good news he might bring from this world. He wore the usual business suit he wears every day, but his had a special taste to it. His bottoms are worn out and bits are torn from the constant wear of them. Specs of dirt covered him from head to toe. He walked into the kitchen and dropped the 37 cents from his pocket on the kitchen table. With the normal face carved in him, and the scratching on the back of his head, I could tell this wasn’t a good day at work. But then again, in a money crisis such as now, I don’t think any father goes to their home with a happier face than a kid finding a gum drop on the side of a road. Now he starts his evening pattern. walking into the kitchen to the right, he Grabs an apple out of the refrigerator, sits at the table, and eats with a glare out the window. When he is finished eating, he will get up, push his chair in, walk up to me and tell me “things will get better. Patience is a virtue son.” He continues his way to the front door, walks down the hallway, turns to face the front door again, and lays down on the ground where his mattress, sheets, and pillow are. I turn around, and look out the same window he looked out of. My Father never tells me why he looks out every day. every time I look out that window, I see a clear blue sky, birds singing in the trees, a little of green grass here and there. But when I close my eyes and imagine the world, I get a sick orange plagued look in the sky, dead trees and grass, factories struggling to fill gallons of pollution in our air. You would think it’s the other way around. I go to my window, which is visible to the kitchen room, but not the same window my father looks out of. I grabbed my blanket and pillow, and feel asleep as the world was screaming in chaos.

The author's comments:
just posting this for a grade in a class.

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