The Broken Crayons

The little girl scribbled away urgently, little hands busy drawing her best drawing yet. Finally, with crayons broken, but with a heart full of joy, she settled down to sleep.
Tomorrow will be a new beginning. 

Early next morning, with the drawing in hand, she sat in front of the office. Cheekily, she strained to hear the conversation behind the closed door.

Miss D’Souza was talking on the telephone.

“You said you were ready to take it forward. The papers are ready…she is ready”.

“ can you!!”

She seemed agitated, angry.

Click. The receiver being put down.

Miss D’Souza then speaking to the matron in the room.

“They are not coming. Last moment jitters, they say”.

“Oh my God! What will we say to her? She is waiting outside”.

“I know, but we will have to do it. We will have to tell her she is going to stay here for a few more days. Someone else will be ready for adoption for sure”.

The little girl had heard enough.

The door opened. The matron and Miss D’Souza, the director of the orphanage came out to see the back of the little girl going inside the corridors of the orphanage.

A paper slipped from the tiny hands and fluttered towards them.

The matron picked it up.

In it were three figures, two big ones and in the middle, a little one. All three holding hands and scribbled were the words “My Family”.

Today, amidst the broken crayons would be a broken heart.

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