Fictions

One Last Birthday

The Old Man

In that crowded metro, he managed to slip in. A few grey hairs, with prominent wrinkles on face, he did not grab anyone’s attention. Confused, he was holding a folder; Yet smiling at people holding and playing on mobile.

“A toy soldier.” Said a kid when looked in his transparent folder.

“Yeah, that’s for my son.” He replied and smiled. His son could not born for all his frail attempts. It was his 28th birthday, and so was his death anniversary.

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