The Little Flying Visitor.

The day had started.

It was 5.30 AM, still dark. Ron hurried to the gym, got done with the cardio for an hour and returned home for breakfast. The Wifey had cooked French Toasts. He wanted to take time to savor the hint of vanilla with a dash of honey, but time was running out. Justice is never done to good things in life. He knew he had to hurry, for the bus to the office never waited for anyone. Ron briefly kissed goodbye and hurried out of his house. He half ran, half walked towards the gate and as he passed it, time slowed down slightly.

You see, the street that he walked on was overlooked by a building in which his parents resided since two years. And since two years they seldom failed to wave a goodbye to him as he walked to seize the day. Ron’s head automatically turned towards the 6th floor balcony where he saw this parents standing, smiling, sometimes with a cup of tea in dad’s hand, other times with a newspaper. On many occasions he has seen them arguing as they usually do, about a random circket test match result or a TV serial. The argument would briefly take a break as they would wave back at him, and continue with the fight. At times, he saw dad standing alone, talking on the phone, gesturing Ron to take the call. The call’s content would consist of conversations like, “Have you carried the lunch box?” Ron’s dad had nurtured a little garden in his balcony, and he often spotted little flying visitors on those plants. Sometimes when Ron’s dad waved, a bird or two would fly out chirping in disagreement. These moments made Ron feel invincible.

But since about two months now, the balcony has been deserted. Ron’s hand instinctively goes up for a way whenever he passes by as it did today, but no one reciprocates.

A little flying visitor has flown away forever.