Behind the humongous door, there was a fragile creature who used to spend his days looking through a peephole, which was carved intricately into the wood.
He would spend endless hours seeing people pacing up and down the road; some of them were frisky, some sluggish and some with sheer apathy.
A cheerful couple walked joyously down the boulevard, with arms entangled.
“A newlywed couple”, Jimmy concluded,
for he believed people often fail to keep the fire lit as the time goes by.
They looked at each other, giggled and seemed to foresee their future together.
Right beside them walked a guy, eloquent of his lethargy, with a loosened necktie on his sweat-drenched, crumpled shirt. Jimmy coined him as a “lost white-collared laborer”.
Jimmy wondered if the guy liked what he did. He promptly decided that he didn’t.
A sullen face of his contributed to the conclusion. He probably has had a wrangle with his boss. Work that didn’t excite him, yet mandatory to earn a living, had made his journey monotonous.
From the corner of his eye, he could see a kid, who was flaunting a bunch of balloons, coming into the frame. Few pennies had elicited a billion dollar grin on his rosy face. The kid used to whine about not being an adult, little did he know that growing up is a trap.
A familiar old woman was talking on phone. Jimmy saw that she had a dubious smile.
If the person on the other side of the phone could see her, he or she would realize she was holding back her tears. She hung up the call and could be seen carrying some medical reports. Jimmy wondered if they were an augury to the family’s imminent ordeal. Was it her or her son?
Jimmy reclined on the chair to take a break from the world. Although nothing significant, he liked what he used to do in a day. With a knock on the door, he thought of the old woman again. Even worse, was it her grandson Jimmy, the butterfly boy?