A Good Life

A Good Life
a short story
By Adrian Mendizabal

In the afternoon the magical array of treacherous clouds in magenta hurled from the northeast skies of Huerta. Sixteen minutes ago, a man of good intentions fled from the market and carried a sum of two thousand pesos. He went directly to a local bank to deposit it; he wanted to keep it safe, to bake it on a bank roll. He knows its better this way.

On the other side of the city a lonely woman wept on a fa├žade of her house looking for a stick. She blemished with longing for she doesn’t know why she’s crying.

3:00 PM

The barren riverbanks were confided with dead leaves and fragmented trunks. Nearby the bridge fancy rainbow fishes swam in shoals, lilies and water hyacinth covered the water surface near the boat post. Frogs and toads hummed in calmness jostling on the bosom soil. Violets and pansies subtly swayed with the breeze, like a hammock of silk dancing. Odoriferous smells of mint and tomatoes blended with the mountain air: as clouds in cirrus forms cleared the sky radiating more light from the summer sun.

“Mr. Carlos, what are those?” a child was pointing at a distant field on a tree poking at the horizon.
“Oh! The acacia trees, they stood there for a couple of hundred by now, it was even painted by the renowned painter Amorsolo after he cruised here.”A man on his twenties appallingly told the child with passion. “Now do your circles! I wanted it nice and perfect.”
“I hope I could go there and take a closer look of such beautiful trees,” the child eyed more on the distance.
“You could if you are a little older then.”
“Mr. Carlos, have you painted those trees before?”
“No young man, they have little sorrowful secret, I get sad when I look at it.”
“Why are you sad?”
“I am sad because I am not as happy as you!”
“I’m happy…”
“Yes you are.”