The Hard Knock

The evening air was crippling. The knock at the front door was timid. If it were any more so it could have broken fingers. Inside, the kids are up later than usual. Waiting with excitement for an expected visitor. Through the lounge he strides, into and out of chaos. The Easter Bunny never comes inside. Calm down!

Under the suburban streetlights, the figure on the front step shrinks inside his coat. Shy eyes dare peer out in hope of recognition. Can I help you? An old face climbs out of the silhouette, barely filling the space around the eyes. Perhaps.

The sight of his face thirty years hence immobilises him. The children buzz around, hoping. They are to be disappointed. The chill April air gushes through the doorway like so many unwanted relatives before it.

The Hard Knock

TimothyJ

Melbourne, Australia

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