‘What are emotions, other than a distraction from the duties of life?’ She peered through the mist that surrounded her house. Her breath too came out as mist that day. ‘Why should I care about them? It is foolish to waste time on emotions.’ She then kicked a pebble from the gravel road that led the way to her house.
The robins chirped of an early spring while sitting on snow laden trees. “idiots,” she muttered, “those who follow what their heart wills are idiots.” Another pebble was kicked away from her path.
‘Trink! Trink!’ A familiar sound of a bicycle bell came from behind her. Then a bundle hit the back of her auburn head, “paper, Ms. Trotter!” Laughed a boy as he whizzed past her on his cycle.
“Why don’t you show more respect to your elders, Jamison!” She yelled. The robins took flight, leaving pure white branches, brown and bare.
“Can’t hear you, Ms. Trotter!” The paper boy, Jamison, yelled back from ten feet in front of her.
She let a sigh escape from her clenched teeth, then she stooped down for the paper that hit her. Unrolling the flabby, half wet bundle, the largest and boldest headline caught her eye.
‘DAMIEN FENRICK, PROPERTY MINISTER OF FITSCHER PROVINCE FOUND DEAD, AGAIN.’
‘Didn’t he die ten times already?’ She rolled the newspaper again and stuffed it into her lousy tote bag. ‘And because this property minister can’t stay alive for more than two months, I can’t live peacefully in my house either.’ Another pebble hopped away from her.
She walked to the heart of the woods, then stood facing the barely blue sky. ‘This is the country I ought to praise in my classroom. With doctors who can’t tell between death and life and teachers who keep feeding lies to the ‘future of the nation’. God bless this country.’
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and then Add to home screen.