skittles

He was playing with marbles.
Trotting about like a sturdy race horse, in training, he gathered the colored red ones and put them in a bag.

He quickly stepped away and when no one was seeing, he ran into the wind.

He lurched forward and panted his lungs, his feeble knees supporting his demeanor.
He walked over and sat under the wet grass.
Morning sprinklers were so inspirational.

I looked on by, reading my book at the tree over the corner.

He, was mesmerized by the marbles he owned.
He looked at it, closely and seemed to love it all the more.
He chose one out of the few he had, all of them looked the same.

We sat there for almost an eternity.
He still was at it.
Ridiculous boy, I thought.
But what was I doing there a whole eternity?

I walked over, annoyed at myself for being distracted and also slightly perplexed at why I thought this boy was intriguing.

So I put on the my brightest toothy smile and he looked at me suspiciously.
Whattakid.
Well he told me later it was just that lots of people thought he was a weird kid and they always wanted to find out why.He obviously was oblivious.
I realized I could have just gone on to him without preparing myself to be sugary.
So anyway, he told me he played with the boys and when they got out their sets of marbles, he vanished.
Their other sets, that is.
Red, Blue, he said he liked yellow the least but marbles were marbles.

He ran away not cause he didn't have all the colorful marbles that they did, he ran because he was happy with his color.
He'd have liked to have all of them, but he couldn't and he still couldn't be happy cause he couldn't play if he didn't have the right colors.
I looked guiltily at him.

I left then, knowing that I'd meet him the next day.
Marble Boy, Mmmm.

As I walked along the lane, lighting up, I passed by trees and playing children also dogs, I blew smoke into the air, somehow this time I didn't acknowledge the trees or the children, I just was habituated to their existence.
Also to puffing smoke, to an extent that I was scared I followed a stereotype of two drags per stride.
I stubbed it with my big toe.
I should use my heel the next time.

Shower and dinner were quick.

The boy was sitting the other side of the tree.
I walked straight to him and before my last step, checked my cigs and lighter, I didn't want him to see.
He asked me why I smoke?
Kids, off late.
I need to ask myself that, though.

He told me some more about his red marbles.
He taught me to hold it, he said, I'd get the rest right.
Before I knew, the birds were back in their nests and feeding littil chicks and all that.
We had to leave, the mosquitoes wouldn't.

The next day, he told me about the marble, out of all.
It was his favorite.
The glass was dented, somewhat making it prettier than the rest.
It won him, two others, once.
And he really didn't even mind that it was dented, not until I almost reminded him, before which he told me that marbles are not like other normal things.

So I smiled at him, showing my teeth, this time, it was just natural.
He smiled back, coyly.
I ruffled his hair and left.

Two days later, I went back, walking to the marble boy's tree.
Walked around the tree and something felt wrong.
I saw, THE, marble.

I knew then, he'd never come back.
I knew then, that things won't.

I slowly looked around, lurched forward and picked the marble, quickly thrusting it in my pocket.
I walked on.



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Thankyou for being the marble boy tappu.