Stories- The footpath

The footpath was his creche. The plastic sheet was his roof. Traveling seemed to be his daily life. Keeps moving from place to place. Sometimes under the scorching sun, sometimes under heavy rain. Nothing could stop his family from moving because, they do not have  a place to stay which they can call it as, 'home.'

Family of five. All the used clothes are his brothers'  All his life he has seen various things. Being back on his mother, peddling a the footpath seemed to be the life, for he doesn't know any. On a night as the family retired for the day. As the old man, though not fluffy like Santa, wearing a red mask, gave a red balloon that could float high on the air. Spending his life with nothing he could possess, he played with the red balloon. 

His joy was as beyond the limits of his range. Like any other day, he lost whatever he wished for. The red balloon was slipped from his hands and floated in the air. 

He jumped high to catch the balloon. He saw the balloon vanishing into the darkness. He was okay with what he lost because nothing really stayed with him.