The Museum of Candy Days
I lifted my pair of eyes from the book to unintentionally meet those belonging to a lady sitting in a circle not far from me. "In her eyes was the light that you see only in children arriving at a new place". She was just distributing candies to her team from a half rolled down plastic bag. I averted my eyes, looking away, appearing indifferent, wearing a contemplative mask. I readily wear one of those during dreamy breaks I occasionally take during reading. It helps me digest, and by doing so I offer religious obedience to my ophthalmologist's advice. After a short while, I went back to my book to pick up where I had left off. Time passed. No sooner did I want a break and was about to get up, two candies flew and crash-landed, one on my lap, the other on my book. The one that landed on my book made a resounding noise like that of a boot heel on a wooden panel. The lady looked like could be my mum's age, and was by a man seemed her k...