It was a murky Friday evening. I had finished school detention and was walking down the 73rd Petersburg lane. It had already been four months since the landlord kicked me out but neither was anyone ready to give me a place to work nor a place to shelter. I had accepted the fact that the life of an orphan was miserable but never had I thought it would be despairing. I had never known my parents nor did I want to because they were already gone, leaving me alone and so my heart was filled with emptiness, rather than hate, anger, or sadness.
As I walked down the lane, tears fell from my eyes. Today was going to be another day when I slept on an empty stomach on the cold hard ground. Bringing my hand up to wipe my tears, I screamed, mostly because of the bruises and cuts I had suffered on my hand from the fight in school but also because of the pain and anger I felt towards the one who gave me such devil’s luck.
I huddled down in a heap in a corner formed by two houses, one which projected further out into the street than the other, and tried to wrap my wounded hand with a piece of cloth. All of a sudden I saw a small shadow from the faint light of the Yablochkov candles outside the house of Mrs. Bruchet. I immediately stood up, and looked to my right and left but saw nothing. I waited, my eyes fixed on the lane. However, no one showed their face.
I sighed and went back to sitting in the dark corner. Suddenly I heard a voice. I stood up again and walked out of the corner into the main lane and stood looking towards the sky not able to see a single star in the gloomy night. I could hear the voices of people from inside the houses. I turned my head and walked towards the palatial house of Mrs. Bruchet and pepped through the casement window by standing on my tiptoes.
The floor was shiny, the fireplace burnt beautifully while Mrs. Bruchet sat on the rocking chair with a faint smile on her face as her kids ran around the dining table. Soon a butler with a servant placed a variety of food on the oak brown dining table. My mouth watered furiously as I saw the deliciously marinated and grilled chicken, a plate of freshly cut fruits, and a jar of orange-colored drink. The kids inside immediately ate with delight as Mrs. Bruchet laughed when her kids ate so eagerly.
I watched quietly as they all ate together and when they all finally got up, I backed away from the window and walked back slowly to my dark corner. Life seemed so unfair. While others enjoyed comfortability and love inside the warmth of their houses and family, I sat alone, hungry in the dark corner of the street.
Tears rolled out of my eyes, I felt so empty inside, so unloved. Suddenly I heard a sound again. I stopped crying and looked at the lane outside and wiped my tears to look more clearly. Out of the blue, a kitten walked toward me. The kitten looked smaller than my fist, her white fur had turned dirty from loitering in the dusty street and blood covered her front left paw as she limped on her other three legs to come closer to me. As she came closer she lost balance and was about to fall but I lifted her up and laid her head on my legs. She was in pain and her eyes pleaded for help. I looked at her paw and gently removed the tiny glass piece stuck there.
She looked so relieved and free from any pain now that her leg was fine, she then fell asleep on my leg immediately. I smiled and giggled seeing her licking my leg even though she was fast asleep. She was like a bright light in my dark life. A feeling which was almost unknown to me crept inside. I felt, well, happy again. I had a peaceful sleep for the first time in months now. The next morning, I woke up to see her playing around my leg. When she saw me wake up she climbed onto my leg and I picked her up. I smiled as I saw the love and gratitude the kitten was holding in her eyes. My day and life had brightened up by her presence and I knew then and there that she would stay by my side through happiness or sadness. Tears filled my eyes but this time from the love and joy that was filling my heart. I named her ‘Gift’.
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