The Girl With The Yellow Bag

 

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A ray of bright light shoots out of the curtains just like a spotlight on her face. As much as she was used to the spotlight, this irritated her…but she loved mornings, so much that one would say she has an excess of vitamin D in her body! Opening her eyes to a room that had outbursts of bright colors probably made Karen the happy and glowing person that she is. Her room so clean, her things much in place, her breakfast steaming hot next to her…life seemed perfect.

She quickly gets ready for a stroll outside and hurries through the door whilst grabbing her precious yellow bag. Her day evidently seemed brighter with her favorite bag which had cute yellow thread work done which made it look outrageously girly…suiting Karen’s personality. She had this bag with her since forever. Lost in her thought while she strolled along the construction side of her neighborhood she accidentally stumbles upon the road with sticky tar on it…her bright yellow bag falls out of her arm and into the hot tar-y road. She quickly tries to pick it up but alas the hot tar had burnt tiny holes in her beautiful yellow bag. Devastated, she walks back home thinking to herself as to how the bag had become a part of her personality itself, bright and warm just like her and now she had to mend it somehow!

At home she reaches out to her mother’s stitching kit and pulls out a few yellow buttons, she decides to add her ‘touch’ to the bag. Being her first time she struggles to thread the needle…her hands tremble as the frustration of having to do this in the first place builds up in her. Her mother brings her a glass of chilled orange juice on this hot afternoon thinking of it as a comforting gesture towards her precious daughter. The dew rolls down the glass just like the sweat on Karen’s cheek. After a stressful hour she had finally been able to cover the holes with the buttons…but it wasn’t the same. it wont ever be the same. She sat on her pretty couch contemplating as to what to do with the bag. She then walks towards her window and looks out and realizes that nothing is perfect, it is us who try to achieve perfection when the thought itself is very subjective. With that she grabs her crutches and walks towards the kitchen to show her mother her new made art.

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