A short story, reflecting on the inevitable nature of life and cynacism.
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A bright red hot-air balloon lazily drifted in the distance, floating on the thick dusk air with the splendour of a storm cloud. I envisaged the romance on board: a velvet love scene with champagne and strawberry-smeared clasped hands. Tonight was the night. I could feel it, that trembling in my spine that threatened to surge up and overflow with a tingling excitement, if I only let go of my civilised composure.
I stepped lightly down the cool street, illuminating the greyness of another evening with my simmering fireworks, that hissed and popped in my stomach with anticipation. A smile broke out without warning, to many strange looks from the grim passers-by. What had I to be so happy about? I could almost hear the cynacism rumbling from the depths of their hopelessness. Half guilty, half smug, I pressed my lips together into a more subtle expression of superior knowledge.
A light breeze ruffled my hair, blowing a few stray strands across my face. As I brushed them aside, a shiny coin caught my eye, radiating copper brilliance from the pavement. I swooped down on the delicious find, elated. It was a sign, without even a hint of a shadow of doubt. I closed my fingers tightly around it, so that sharp nails pressed into my palm. A brand new penny, to mark a brand new era for my life to enter. My feet floated towards the Co-op as I recalled the traditional rhyme:
“see a penny, pick it up:
all day long you’ll have good luck.”
Then there was the modern addition:
“Give it to a friend;
your luck will never end.”
I glanced around at the shuffling people staring at their shoes. One foot, another foot, one foot, another…It was too late for them: they had been swallowed by the flat tunnel that yawned ahead of them, and even a bright penny from a stranger would not revive them. I clung to it, selfishly. I needed it; this was my key to fate. Besides, it was headed for my scrapbook when I got home, to remind me forever of the time I was penniless, but for one beacon of hope snatched from the gutter.
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