As a child, I had this habit of making up stories in my head about strangers I meet on the streets. I think I have resumed to this old habit because it somehow makes me feel less lonesome going home to an empty apartment.
We need to get home soon, buddy. They've taken quite a long while to finish today's errands. His girlfriend called twice to check if he bought milk because they were out and whether he's walked Ruben. I have, honey. I even got you a bottle of your favorite wine. In ten minutes, we'll be home and tonight I'm going to cook your favorite dish. I will even wash the dishes. He's hoping that tonight, he will finally gather up the courage to ask her to be his wife.
Do you also wonder what goes in the head of little children? I've always imagined that they must be amused to see the world differently when they're perched on top of their parents' shoulders. Or how they must be looking forward to going home to their toys or their pet dog. Surely, they won't remember this fleeting moment tomorrow. But it's okay. They will probably have plenty more walks like this until they are too big to be carried or when hanging out with their parents start to become uncool.
Dark clouds started to roll above and tiny drops of rain began to fall. I guess it's now time for me to head home as well. I'm on my way, door number 53. I'm on my way.