WRITTEN BY IWUNDU WISDOM
Somewhere along a busy road sits an apartment, and in the apartment a boy, and in the boy frustration.
He stares across the dimly lit room at the empty pages of his notebook, then to the far right, at the winking cursor on the white page of his laptop. The blinking cursor rivals his countenance, and the open notebook his state of mind, and he shuts his eyes, listening to the buzz of city life and willing himself to grasp words to immortalise his thoughts.
The approach disappoints him. Again. The wall clock says it’s 2 p.m., his notebook says he’s done nothing. He sighs, decides to distract himself, thinking maybe if he keeps out of doors for a moment, he may stumble upon the inspiration he seeks.
Stepping into the baking afternoon sun, he squints around the raucous road, smiling at the impressive feel of the welcoming afternoon noise and the overwhelming run of life from market buzz. Out of habit, he slips his phone out from his pocket, and not long after, his Facebook app runs along with the pace of his mindless strides; swiftly.
He shortly stumbles upon a short story on his News Feed. He reads as he walks, feeling the words he seeks falling into place with each paragraph. His smile broadens, his countenance in peace with his find.
If he’d looked up then, maybe his smile wouldn’t have died so quickly. But he didn’t look up and neither did he hear the rising market gasps nor the honk of metal horning, nor grate of screeching tyres.
Somewhere along a busy road sits still an apartment, and in the apartment a glowing LCD screen, and on the screen a blinking cursor. But the room is dead silent and the cursor may keep blinking for a very long time.
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