Numero One

by feyted

While the young boy sits alone on the side, he quietly watches the other children playing in the courtyard. Under the summer sun, he contemplates while not socialising with his fellow orphans, instead keeping to himself and analysing his environment. He does not feel the need to play with them nor does he yearn for their companionship. The shade of the old maple provides relief from the sun’s heat and the child slowly closes his eyes. 24 other individuals are playing, 11 boys, 8 girls, 4 men, 1 woman. He can hear the sound of the basketball. Thump… thump… thump… The sound of the girls’ chatter. The laughter in the air and the tears of a small child who has just fallen over. The scent of flowers fill the air, carried upon the winds passing through the garden patch. Roses, tulips, gardenias, magnolias combined into a soothing and relaxing aroma. Content, the boy slowly drifts off to sleep. Slowly the sounds recede, the light darkens, the scents retreat. And in the brief moment before he drifts off, he registers two objects on either side of him. Familiar and comforting, the young boy smiled though it wasn’t registered upon his face and knew he was where he wanted to be.

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