Mother quarreled with him over his secretive lifestyle. However, he never changed his ways. He would spend hours in our library, buried under piles of books. He never seemed to read them, rather he just skimmed through. Mother had developed a resentment towards books and did not step inside the library, and I simply wasn’t allowed there. One day, while dad was away on a trip, I snuck in. I wore his glasses and began going through his books. It was then I understood his obsession. The glasses highlighted certain words – clues.
It started off with a bright, boozy brunch. The food was as good as if not better than the merry conversations at the table. My head still floating with a mild buzz, I decided to visit the museum. It always transported me to the past. I walked through all the exhibits, taking my time to read all the descriptions. The solid, factual language used, was a nice change from the flowery words I was used to at work. After spending a couple of hours at all the exhibits, I made my way to the technology wing. This was my favourite section. As I observed the handheld devices, I remembered the smartphone era from my childhood. We still had to touch the screen. Today, my brain-link glasses do it all for me.
For four days we have been trapped in this bunker as those dastardly planes bomb our city relentlessly. The torrential explosions in the day are followed by distant detonations in the night. It then that we venture out of the bunker. A group of four or five at a time. We make a run for the storeroom and grab food for those in the bunkers. The devils in the sky think they can make us quit with their rain of hellfire. That won’t happen. We will never give up.