As the evening drew on and the street lights outside lit the bare rooms dimly, a small boy sat in the middle of the room holding out his hand and hummed the beginning of the Batman series.
He got up …the little kid went out to the window and yelled out that he’s coming to play.
The boy vanishes…
An elder boy came out to the living room the lights outside lit his face, he seemed to be glum over something kept staring at a phone…
The elder boy vanishes…
Now a young man is standing at the big window and staring outside looking at the fountain below and the dimly lit street watching people going by…feels the wind ruffling through his hair and looks down and sees his old friend standing and staring up at him …his face lights up and he rushes out for that long walk…
The young man vanishes…
The house is now all but silent.
And with a heavy sigh the Smith home says goodbye.
Thank you Varun for unintentionally inspring this one... will miss calling 6220.
A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen.
- Edward de Bono
