Sophia's Flute

After three decades of marriage without a child to call her own, Sophia had decided to open a Child Care Orphanage Home. She thought to herself - even though my Chi has refused me a child, I can find solace in other people’s kids, rejected just like me.

It was her diamond jubilee, ten years after running the orphanage, she had gathered the kids around her while she shits on a rusty brown chair right in the midst of the kids – it was story time.
Sophia reached for her bag. In there lies the slender plastic pipe laced with holes. Everyone referred to it as - Sophia’s Flute, but she knows in it lies her means of escape from the situational emptiness that has beclouded her soul since her husband passed away five years ago.

She dipped the tip between her slender red lips and applied a gentle air through the opening. The sound from the other end was pure and still like the Nightingale. The excitement was visible in the eyes of the kids as they listen to the melody with rapt attention. That joy from the kids alone, albeit momentary, had justified her venture into child care.