Fiction: The kite

The wind blows and the young boy moves slowly. He is looking up, his head tilted to his left.

He holds something in his hand. A wire or is it rope? He is concentrated as if he is holding more than a rope. As if he is holding some great weight. The weight of something he does not fully understand, but which he is committed to sustain. A weight he takes with him... that he moves left and right.

The young boy smiles for a moment. He tilts his head to his right and then goes serious again. He stops looking up and for a second... just one second he stops looking at his kite. When he will finally look back, he will have lost track of his kite and when he finally realizes where the kite has gone, it will be too late. It will be tangled in some wire or in some structure that outweighs it... that does not let it through.

The young boy will be upset for moment, even cry a tear or two.

Then he will abandon his kite and go home. Only to come back some days later with another rope, another kite, another weight.