Without Love

Without Love- A Short Story

Every year at work we have had to do a project to better ourselves, and humanity. I understand the humanity part, but this hasn't really impacted me. For my work project that year I had decided to meet some children and raise money for their cause. I slouched as I walked over to the front desk. The sooner I checked in the sooner, I could get it over with.

I said in a monotone voice, "I'm here to meet the children for my work project."

"You? Are you Mr. Waterson?" the lady asked, trying to mask her clear disdain towards him.

"Yes ma'am," I said.

"Right this way," she replied, pursing her lips.

I followed the stout, wrinkled old lady up the creaking stairs. As I looked around, I saw how badly kept the place was. The carpets were filled with dirt, barely showing the previous bright colors and patterns, which were presumably browned by the mud under children's shoes and years of wear. The once polished railing now stood with dull, cracking paint, looking so fragile that it might fall at any moment. The high ceilings gave me unusual shivers, as a cold draft harshly marched through the hall way. Now I looked at the walls. The wall paper looked as if it had once been a sunny yellow, but this did not last. It had now been faded into a dingy beige, which was covered in streaks of grey. The old lady, was slightly hunched over, and looked as old as the building itself. She looked as fragile as the furniture, and as brittle as the walls. She lumbered over to a window that was taller than her and shut it to keep the cold air outside. We walked down another hallway, and turned a corner, almost running into the chipped wooden door paneling. I could hear children's voices on the other side, and an emotion that I do not have very often, that I have suppressed as I do not like getting into trouble, curiosity.

The old lady opened the door, which creaked as she did so. The noise immediately settled down to a minimum, with only silent murmurs running through the children. I don't know what compelled me to do so, but I straightened my posture as I walked into the children's nursery. The peeling wallpaper was there, but it was more yellow, and you could make out faint outlines of cartoon ducks on it. Worn wooden toys were strewn about or held in the hands of curious children. Ranging in various ages, some of the tallest look around sixteen, while the youngest were still babies in cots.

"Children, I would like you to meet Mr. Waterson," she spoke. "He is here to spend time with you."

I entered the room awkwardly. The children were still looking at me with curiosity as the reception lady left. One by one they all lost interest and continued, whether it was taking care of the children or playing with the toys. Curiously enough, one little boy was interested still. He walked over to me, taking me by my hand.

"Hello Mr. Waterson, my name's Tommy Clay. I can tell you need a friend. I can be your friend," Tommy rambled.

"Oh, uh, hey Tommy. My name's Albert," I responded.

Tommy grabbed my hand, his hand tiny compared to mine, and dragged me over to a table with pencils and coloring pages.

"Usually at this time we have school," Tommy informed, "but since it's a weekend we can do whatever we want."

Tommy smiled at me, showing his big white teeth. He picked up a paper with a cartoon family on it. They were all standing side by side. The man had a straw hat on with overalls and a collared shirt. The woman had a dress decorated by polka dots, with an apron that covered the lower half of her body. Both the man and the woman were smiling, seemingly happy to be together. In front of them was a little boy in overalls, his hair rumbled and a big smile on his face. The little boy was stomach down on the grass with his hands in front of him. A big happy family.