I entered the police station. My youngest brother was in detention.
"What was he doing working at the petrol station at such young age?" Asked the investigation officer.
Time stood still. Everyone stopped whatever they were doing. All eyes and ears were on me. "He has to work. Both of them need to. They've got no choice. We've got few options."
She looked straight at me - as though looking for signs of lying. I looked straight at her - not because I was afraid I might give my true feelings away. But because her eyes were windows to what seemed like a beautiful world that I simply had to see what lies within that world. Her world.
Satisfied with my answer, she ordered for my brother's release. She was right. What was a one-year-old child doing working at the petrol station? I teared a little as I carried the little child in my arms. As he wrapped his arms around my neck, I whispered whispers in his ears.
As much as I wish for you not to work, you have to. Both you and your twin need to. You've got no choice. We've got few options.
2 comments:
Well done my friend!
You captured well the frustration and yet necessity of those who, in truth, because of economic necessity have no other options.
A small comment on word usage: In the last sentence it would be more correct to write "We've got few options" instead of using 'little' - which is more appropriate for size.
I initially wrote "few options" but after reading it a couple of times, I thought "little options" sounded nicer. I've changed back to the former. Thanks for the advice!
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