Bluestocking's Note: To read the story so far altogether, click here
An year
passed. The boy grew older but the road remained unfinished and the building
still standing. To the boy, it was a miracle. A reaffirmation of his faith. That
she – he now thought of the building as his sweetheart – was waiting for him.
Like one of those princesses locked away in a tower. And now one of the trees
lodged in her walls had sprouted flowers of a very common pink. Not
particularly bright, given the dust that swirled in the city air. But he knew
in his heart that the building was blooming for him, baring her beauty just for
him.
And soon,
he would be able to claim her.
Then one
day, when he was on a lunch break, he saw commotion outside the building. He rushed
to find out what the matter was. There was some sort of notice posted on the
rotten main door of the building and all the residents seemed to be clustered
around it. They sounded angry, indignant.
He tapped
an elderly man closest to him. “What is the fuss all about?”
“This
building”, replied the man, ”is to be demolished. We have been given a month’s
notice to evacuate.” The man’s eyes were fixed somewhere far in the distance. He
added with soft bitterness, “A new office building will be constructed here.
For people smarter than us.”
The boy
felt his heart break.
A month! What
was he to do? How could he save her? How? How?
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