Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4 - 7 2018 | Page 229

The room was completely devoid of people except him, and he wouldn’t have had it any other
way. Time spent in solitude was time well spent, he figured, and actively tried to shroud himself in peace
and quiet.
It was how he got his thinking done. It was the only way that he could hear himself above all the
useless, noisy chatter of the world, cutting through as clear and bright and curious as they come.
He put these thoughts down on paper because he thought they were beautiful. Should there ever
come a time when the thoughts mature into a story, perhaps he would consider publishing them for the
world to read. As for now, he was perfectly content with word shavings and sentence crumbles.
His phone screen lit up with an incoming message from someone he had previously neglected to
build a relationship with. He had decided to open up to her, though, and she now cared for him as much as
his sister used to.
Come home soon. Dinner waiting. -Mom
Tick, tick, tick . It was 5:00.
Just one more sentence, he promised himself. Just one more sentence.