The boy next door

It was a bright, sunny morning that day. My family just moved from City E to City A because my father was promoted as the General Manager of Empress Hotels and my mother has no issues for she is a freelance writer. We moved to a two-story house in a famous subdivision on that area.

From the outside this house looks posh and extravagant. It has been built with brown stones and has white cedar wooden decorations. Tall, half rounded windows let in plenty of light and have been added to the house in a very symmetric way.

The house is equipped with a large kitchen and two modern bathrooms, it also has a wide living room, four bedrooms, a long dining area, a lounge area and a roomy garage.

The building was shaped like an L. The extension extends into wooden sunscreens structures circling around half the house.

The second floor was the same size as the first, but part of it hangs over the edge of the floor below, creating an overhang on one side and a balcony on the other. This floor has a different style than the floor below.

The roof was low and square shaped and is covered with slate shingles. Two large chimneys poke out the center of the roof. A few large windows let in just enough light to the rooms below the roof.

The house itself is surrounded by a gorgeous garden, including various trees, bushes, flowers and a large pond.

The house was great, we had no problems staying at our new house and I specially loved my room as it was wide, with a walk-in closet and was facing the large pond that shimmers as the sun reflects on it.

It had been two weeks and I already finished decorating my room, I choose the turquoise for I like the view of the ocean and my favorite color was blue, any shade is acceptable for me.

I was reading a book in our garden for it was summer then, I was engrossed reading a novel when I heard a door opening, then crashes, shouts and screams could be heard in that small act of opening the door and I couldn't help but look in that direction. Alas, it was the house of our neighbor on the right. A boy about 6 walked out of the door, I say he was too matured in the way he carries himself as if not bothered by the noise of the house he came from. He looked at me and I could somehow see on the depths of his eyes the pain he's feeling and the unbothered look on his face before was all a facade to hide what he truly feels and that brought a sense of dread in my heart, as if a hand is clenching hard on my heart, squishing the life out of me.

On that brief contact of our eyes, his feelings of pain resonated in me event though I had no idea how hurt he was, I feel like if I did not say something, he will be lost forever in darkness. So I resolutely mustered myself to stand before him and say:

"Are you okay?"

As my words are processed through him, I could somehow imagine a wall crumbling into pieces as he understands what I meant.

"I'm... I'm...I'm not okay."

His shoulders slumped as if just saying those words was really hard to accept. So I hugged him, he was reluctant to put his hands at my back at first but he still let go of his reservations and embraced me as well. I could feel that his emotions was in turmoil at that time, he may have never expected that a stranger can understand him well. He may have never expected that someone like me, a younger kid, can see past his front of nonchalant expression. After a long while, in his muffled voice, he said

"Thank you."

Then he looked at me, smiled sincerely and added

"you're an angel. Thank you"

At that time, I did not know that my short act became the demise of my heart.