Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 142

My small little apartment is only one more block away, and then I can finally lie on my bed. That’s all I want, to
finally slow down and stop. I’m done for the day.
In the corner of my eye I see a shadow, a fleeing dark ghost. I turn around and see two tall men with clubs
behind me, looking at me with grins on their faces.
“Hey there, you know the drill, give us your wallet and we’ll let you go.”
They must be used to this, criminals. All I know is that I’m definitely not.
“Guys, please, my mom is sick-“
“Stop talking, just give us your wallet.”
I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I couldn’t fight them, but I could run. I turn around and start sprinting towards
my house. I think I ran for about two seconds before they caught up to me. I felt a cold, solid blow to the right
side of my face and fell forwards, leaving a blob of blood on the pavement. The other guy went through my
pockets and got my wallet. He stole the small amount of money I made off the tip and threw it back at me.
“You’re lucky we didn’t use the clubs.”
They started walking in the opposite direction and disappeared.
I wonder why everyone keeps on saying that I’m lucky. What part of my life would make anyone say that I’m
lucky in any way shape or form? I simply don’t understand. I’m not lucky, I’m just part of system that doesn’t
work, just part of gears that don’t turn.
Those thieves were probably poorer than me, but that doesn’t give them the right to steal from me. Especially
when I give most of my money to my sick mother, but then again how would they know that. Good thing I’m
very good at forgiving people, that’s the one thing I can really do well.
I slowly make my way home and open the doors to my apartment. It’s small, the walls are completely white and
I don’t really bother much with furniture except a bed and a table. On the table sat three letters from this
morning, I must have forgotten to open them. I open the one with my mom’s name, I always open hers first.
She wrote about the things she did during the week and what she was planning to do the week after. At the end
of the letter was a note she left, it read:
“Don’t worry, just believe in yourself today, and if that doesn’t work, try tomorrow”
I’ll try mom, I really will. It didn’t work out today but who knows, tomorrow I might be a doctor.