It was around quarter to seven in the Evening I think. The sun was slowly disappearing, setting towards the horizon with every living moment. I vividly remember that sight. As dusk ensued, I witnessed the last rays of light, struggling to distinguish themselves from the emerald green lake inside which the sun had apparently sunken. The Evenings at the lakeside were always the highlight of my day. Those days, I was not going through the best of times. In reality, it was quite the opposite. Life had been tough after I lost my job. My first try of writing a book which I grandly referred to as my ‘magnum opus’ failed miserably in the market. My property was taken for I could not pay the mortgage. Still, I had hope, dwindling but existent. With that hope, I always went to the lake at sunset. Looking over the setting sun and experiencing the first breezes of the nights that had become too long, I always wondered whether it would ever get better for me. The sound of Birds had slowly gone silent as they flew back to their nests, to their homes.

“Even birds have a place to go back to. A place they can call their own. And here I am, living under the mercy of Mr. Wells”, I thought to myself.

Mr. Wells was my landlord. When the people from the bank confiscated my house and most of my belongings, it was Mr. Wells who sheltered me. He was the only reason why I was not sleeping on the road. I could not find a job. I have been living there for the last two months without paying any rent.
How long could this continue? No matter how sympathetic he felt for me, he could not let me reside there forever, especially for free. “Even generosity has limits!”, I said to myself. And thanks to the state-wide recession, I was pretty sure that I would not be working soon.



“Is this what life is about?”, I thought.
“Am I going to live like this forever, being uncertain about even my next meal?”
“I cannot even afford food, how am I going to pay rent?”
“I...