Coming Home

Three hours left.
I could picture the scene on my window transform from dull gray to glowing green. I could witness faded images of skyscrapers turn into a portrait of trees.
Two hours.
A chilly breeze blows on my face. I hear the rustle of grass. I bathed on the sun’s warmth.
One hour.
I want to hear them – my family’s laughter. Just a bit longer and I’ll finally see them smile, kiss my cheek, and hug me tight – welcoming me home. These are the only things I long for as I patiently wait for the bus ride to end.


Words by: thaleeya Copyright © 2017 Petrichors and Metaphors

Author’s Note: This is a 100-word story submission to Reader’s Digest Asia from a long time ago. Just a background story, the idea was inspired by the author’s situation wherein she studies in a city and comes home in the province only at the holidays.

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Cherry Rose Guillermo

I don't care who you are; if you're kind, you're beautiful. ^^

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