The Broken Seat.

A man riding a bicycle fell. The seat was broken. He had tied it with a rope to keep it in place, but the rope came loose; he lost balance and fell.

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“Bye Honey”, he called out as he stood at the door.

It was strange. The day itself was strange. He never bade farewell to his wife, never even called her ‘Honey’.

“Where is my Tiffin?”. He enquired.

‘No Tiffin today. No food at home. whatever there was, I fed to the kids. please get some money tonight or the kids will have to n hungry for the day’. She replied.
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He sold flowers. He had made 70 rupees by the evening. That would take care of the kid’s food for the day.

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‘I need to get the seat’ he thought as the rope came loose a second time that day. But that would cost around 40 rupees and the kids will have to go hungry. ‘No!. food for the kids is the priority. I can do without the seat’.
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It was a long stretch of road- a shortcut through a desolate area. He did not usually take that route for there was a chance of encountering robbers. But he was late and the thought of his hungry children made him forget his own fears. The rope that held the seat in place came loose a third time and he fell on the road. Two orbs travelling at a high speed blinded him. His hands tried to shield his eyes but they could shield him from the fate that awaited him. The next moment the same orbs had run over him leaving a pool of blood and gore where he fell. The 70 rupees had fallen out of his pocket and lay soaked near his mangled remains.
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The hungry children cried themselves to sleep that night.

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Author's note: Yes, I know it's weird. I wrote it a long time back while travelling in 912. I don't  know what inspired me to write this. I don't know why I had not posted it and I don't even know why I've decided to post it now when I've ruined everything and reduced my life to a mess... no, mess is an understatement. Anyways, you get the picture.

P.S.: I wish I'd meet the same fate as the man in this story.