Wheels - A Short Story

The sparrow on the window pane seemed to be the only commonality between the high rise and the slum, thought Manas in his air-conditioned chamber.

He remembered that some fifteen years back, this high rise too was a flowing neat river.

Several cities and educational degrees later, the time had canonized him back to this direction.

It was a difficult decision for his family and him to move their belongings in their bullock cart from the village, that now was a bustling city.

They did, and so did their lives, like the wheels of the cart that rainy night.

Wheels of Time

This post is author's entry to Five Sentence Fiction.

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