It was a usual evening in my home. Although the time hardly could be called a night yet, the sounds of the insects could be heard surrounding the house. No more sounds of busses or cars, just some of them along with the sounds of motorcycles every now and then from the road.
I sat in my dining room, absent-mindedly opening the two pages of newspaper, which was discarded on one of the chairs. That was when I found a letter from a reader on one page, it was about father.
It really reminded me of my own father. How he had struggled for the family. Then without warning my tears fell down my cheeks. I brushed it off with my fingers in hurry. My mother was eating right in front of me atg that time. Now, I am not a person who easily cries. It surprised me to see how easy a simple writing could touch one’s heart if you write with tender feelings too.
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pratama lysa H.
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