Steps
by Vanessa Gregorio
The last drops of the early
afternoon rain made their way from the yellowing plastic cover of the tricycle
to the lap of his brown corduroy pants. The first quarterly exams just ended,
but unlike most seniors who chose to hang out at the local malls or play
computer games, Jonathan, just as he always did, went straight back home.
As he hopped off from behind the
driver’s seat, Jonathan looked up at the sky: it was dark, it was in the middle
of August, and he was in his final year of high school. He paid the tricycle
driver and started to walk his way home -- the one with the rusting gates and
perpetually unkempt front yard.
Jonathan took a deep breath and
started counting.